I'll Be Good
by aprill99
Summary: Maya Mormont came in to the world kicking and screaming. She's been across the world and adopted when her parents abandon her. She returns to the North to visit her biological family when she hears of the deaths in the war of the Five Kings. When Jon Snow comes riding in full of arrows and the news that war is coming her plans take a very sudden turn. My 1st attempt at GoT ff.
1. Chapter 1

Maya Mormont comes in to the world kicking and screaming. According to her father that was just exactly the way a Mormont should be. The Mormonts were fighters. They always had been and they always would be.

Her mother isn't quite so pleased about it. Lysene Mormont had been born a Hightower. She had always been beautiful and delicate and a perfect little lady which was exactly what she wanted her only daughter to be. In fact, Maya grows to be fairly sure that her mother only had her because children were expected after marriage. Maya thinks Lysene might have loved her father, but she certainly didn't love the Mormont family home on Bear Island.

Bear Island is rough and tumble. Maya's father likes to say that it had an abundance of trees and bears and not much else. Maya loves it. She spends as much time as she possibly can wandering the woods and knows the island and it's people better by age seven then many of the full grown men who served her family.

However, Maya is also her mother's daughter and she wants her mother to love her and be proud of her. So, Maya learns to read and learns her numbers and bits of Dornish and High Valyrian and studies the Seven Pointed Star. She studies the history of Westeros and how to play the bells. At her mother's insistence she even consents to dance lessons where her septa forces the son of the stable master to practice with her.

When Maya is eight her life begins to change and change drastically.

Her father gets caught selling poachers to a slaver to try to pay to keep up with her mother's wealthy and company filled tastes and they all leave in the middle of the night on a ship bound for Dorne. Later Maya can remember that her mother begs her father to allow the two of them to go to her family in Old Town, but her father is insistent. Their family would stay together.

Maya is afraid of the sea when the journey begins but her father sinks down to be at her level and tells her to think of everything as an adventure like the kinds in the stories she likes to read. Soon after she manages to find her sea legs and the journey immediately becomes infinitely more fun as their captain has given her the run of the ship. Her mother spends the whole trip inside their cabin quietly embroidering, stitching, fretting over their new situation and seemingly refusing to truly speak to her husband.

They do eventually arrive in Dorne but they don't stay for long. In fact, Maya can't remember being there for more than a fortnight before they have moved on to the free cities. Her mother had wanted to stay there, but her father had argued that the city would be too expensive, and was still technically Westeros whose laws he had broken.

The city of Braavos is bright, warm, and full of color and people talking and singing and merchants trying to sell their wares. Maya's favorite pastime is to wander through the markets by the sea. The smell of the ocean and salt air has become one of her favorite things over their journey to Braavos and she is glad for the winds that sweep the smell through the city. Her mother doesn't like her wandering and here even her father takes the time to warn her to be careful, mind her mother, and stay inside when he can't go out with her, but that makes going out even more enjoyable when she gets to.

Maya has her ninth name day in Braavos and her father brings her a necklace with a wooden charm carved in the shape of the bear of her house and tiny topaz eyes as a present. Her mother manages to smile but their is a subtle tightness behind it. At that point her parents have been fighting for months already and have all but stopped truly trying to hide it from her weeks before.

A fortnight after that Maya's father leaves them for the fighting pits. The boat had been sold long ago and the money they had had run dry. Maya knows it but her father will not talk about it and her mother denies that it is even true in the first place. She is pretty sure that that is their key problem but has no way to say it.

Not long after that their has had no word from Maya's father for quite some time and her mother seems to have given up on him. She quickly takes up the offer of a rich man from Braavos to become his paramour and is immediately gifted a pleasure barge. Maya sees lines of them going up and down the rivers and canals of the city from time to time and wonders which one her mother is on.

She has been summarily left behind, and tries desperately not to think about it too much. If she does she knows she will crumble in despair.

The wife of the man who they had been renting rooms from later takes pity on Maya as a girl abandoned by her parents, not crushing the fragile hopes that Maya still clings to that her father will return for her soon. The woman permits Maya to stay in a small room and her husband continues to allow it as long as Maya helps with chores like mending, cooking and embroidery. They have even begun to teach Maya the language of the free cities and she catches on quickly.

The man's wife is a woman named Britta. The woman brings in extra money for her family by serving as a healer. She makes cosmetic creams and tinctures for the wealthy men and women of Braavos and is paid by them in gold and silver coins. She helps women give birth and stitches and treats cuts for many of the men who fight for money. Britta also helps the peasants and common folk of the city in exchange for small gifts like loaves of bread, and knitted lace.

Maya quickly becomes fascinated by how Britta can take a broken person and put the pieces of them back together again. One day Britta notices Maya watching her see to a young man with a long gash across his shoulder and with barely more than a blink has ushered her in to help. By the time they are done Maya's hands have been covered in blood and her hands are shaking, but she manages to clean the cut as directed and piece the skin back together. If she removes herself from the situation a little bit it really isn't so different from mending a rent in an old sheet.

Britta then takes one look at her neat, sure, stitches and declares that she will teach her. When Maya asks what she would be learning in her hesitant and newly acquired Braavosi Britta's simple response is "everything Girl. I will teach you everything."

And Maya learns. She soaks in all that Britta can possibly teach her with quiet desperation. For nearly two full years learning and helping Britta to help others is all that she truly has. That she can be busy and have a positive affect on the lives of others is enough to keep her distracted from the truth that she is little better than an orphan now. An orphaned daughter of a convicted traitor living on the wrong side of the world. Those are the thoughts that creep in on her at night when she has nothing else that she can think about. Sometimes it is enough to make her cry. But she makes sure that it never happens during the day when other people can see, and covers the signs as best she can in the day time.

Her life changes again on her eleventh name day. She is sitting in the herb market near the fountain of the gods eating her lunch of bread and salted fish before completing her errand for Britta who has sent her to collect willow bark and Witch Hazel. She is dressed in the light, flowing, died cotton clothes of a Braavosi common girl, her skin has tanned in the last two years of being in the sun, and her brown hair has become streaked with lines of gold and grown in to long waves which have been twisted in to braids. to keep it up off of her neck.

A boy a little older than herself is running through the market and trips over a loose stone, gashing open the skin on his knee. He cries out in pain and then immediately bites down on his own lip to keep from crying. Maya runs over as quickly as she can, dodging carts and shoppers in the process and sinks down beside him on the sun heated cobbles.

"Are you alright?" she asks. She speaks first in the language of the free cities as has become her habit but the boy just looks at her blankly with his eyes welling and shakes his head at her. Maya frowns and thinks hard for a moment. It is difficult to think through and she has to fumble for a moment before the Common Tongue comes to her lips. It frightens her a bit that she has such a hard time no matter how brief to remember how to speak the language of the land of her birth.

She repeats her question and the boy nods hesitantly. "Yes I think so," his accent is the soft lilting one of Dorne. "But my Uncle will be angry. I wasn't supposed to go far away from him and now I've ripped my clothes and cut my knee."

Maya examines the injury critically. "I can fix it," she offers. "Clean it at least. And cover it. I have clean cloth and the fountain is there. What's your name?"

The boy looks at her with puzzled brown eyes as though he is confused that she doesn't know who he is. "I am Tristane Martell. Prince of Dorne," he explains plainly.

Maya gapes at him for a long moment and then scrambles to her feet. "I'll go find Britta. She's the woman who taught me. She knows more. She'll be more able to help you your Grace." Calling on long and nearly forgotten curtesy classes Maya bobs a curtsy and begins to turn and dash away.

"No wait," Tristane says, reaching out and gripping her hand. "I want you to help me. My Uncle says i'm not to leave the market and you are interesting. Who are you?"

Maya knows better than to deny a Prince, even if he is a prince that she has never heard of. "I'm Maya," she murmurs. She slowly sits back down and digs a clean cloth out of her bag. She soaks it in the clean, cool water of the fountain and uses it to clean the cut on Tristane's knee. As she works she answered his questions about where she has come from, what she knew, and how she has learned it. She describes Britta and the friends she has made in Braavos. When Tristane ass about her parents, Maya freezes for a moment, her blue-green eyes wide before she manages to stutter out that they are dead. She isn't sure if it is true, but the lie seems more pleasant than the truth.

By the time she's finished talking the sun has moved in the sky and Maya knows that she is late and Britta will likely be furious with her when she returns. But Maya hasn't talked, _really_ talked to anybody for a very long time and Tristane is a very good listener. He doesn't interrupt, he laughs only if something is funny, he pursues the right details, and he seems to not be pretending when he says that the story is interesting.

When she's done Tristane stands up and pulls her up after him, beginning to drag her through the market. "Where are we going?" she asks.

"To find my uncle," he replies. "I have an idea."

They find Oberyn Martell fairly quickly. As it turns out the man has been looking for his nephew for the better part of the last two hours. He scolds Tristane for making him worried but catches sight of Maya over Tristane's shoulder and his face breaks in to a smile. "I see," he says. "Well a Martell can always be distracted by a pretty face. It's one of our great weaknesses. Come here."

Maya goes forward shyly and Oberyn looks her over carefully before turning back to Tristane. The two converse briefly in Dornish and Maya feels apprehension building in her stomach. Oberyn looks back at her. "My nephew tells me you are an orphan. Perhaps in need of adoption?" Maya merely stares at him before nodding slowly. The world seems to stop for a long moment before Oberyn straightens up. "Come then," he says. "We must find your herbalist woman and then an appropriate name day present. Tristan tells me you are eleven today. That deserves something rather special."

It doesn't seem possible but it really all does happen almost exactly that quickly. Oberyn buys her a honey cake and a book with truly beautiful illuminated pages and then pays a visit to Britta and her husband and announces that Maya will be leaving with them. Looking back Maya is fairly sure that he must have paid them or perhaps made threats. Either way she packs her few remaining possessions in to the small trunk she's managed to keep and some of the Martell's servants carry it away for her. She lived in the Martell's royal accommodations until they leave and Tristane keeps her company and promises to teach her Dornish which he begins to do when they board their ship back to Dorne.

The Dornish royal family meets her, heres of her family history, and seems to fold her in amongst them without ever looking back. The Martells are fiercely protective of their own and they have decided to make her one of their own. Tristane's father is kind but stern and often tired but one of his greatest regrets is that he could never bring himself to remarry when Tristane's mother died to give him any siblings. Maya is happy to fill the role of little sister and when Tristane's father sees that she makes his son happy when they learn and play together in the gardens he makes Maya's adoption official.

It is easier to transition from being a Mormont to being a Martell than Maya ever thought it could be. The family engulfs her completely. Oberyn likes all things pretty and has missed his little sister Ellia since the day she died. These two factors come together fantastically and Oberyn turns in to the kind of fun Uncle who brings presents for no particular reason. The Sand Snakes are unsure and guarded at first but eventually they decide that she's interesting enough to stay around when she proves that she can cleanse and patch their cuts and scratches with the plants in the Water Gardens. This earns her their lessons in self-defense and like a true Mormont Maya takes to it like a fish to water.

True Mormont.

True Martell.

Eventually Maya comes to terms with the fact that she is somehow half each and not necessarily either. She learns the Dronish language and loves the music and all of the stories that the Dornish tell that will never make it to Westeros. She wears the light-weight silks and styles her hair the Dronish way. Her medical knowledge is refined and enhanced by the Maester in residence at the royal palace. She lives the life of a Dornish Princess. She is liked by the common people of Dorn and boys tell her that she has become beautiful. Maya will forever be grateful for the life she's been given and for the luck and all the gods old and new who made such a thing possible.

However, what makes her a Mormont is still there in her bones. She misses the cold that cleanses the air and the late summer snows that coat Bear Island like powdered sugar on a cake. She sometimes longs for the comfort of curling up in front of a warm fire with mulled cider and a bear skin pelt. Memories like that and of other things like the sound of her mother's voice teaching her to sing and the way her father had taught her to ride creep in to her dreams and idle thoughts in the quite moments before going to sleep.

Maya thinks that somehow she has managed to blend the two versions of herself together the way that some women manage to weave tapestries. It's clumsy and irregular in some places, a smooth and seamless picture in others, but she has made it as bright and as vibrant as she possibly can and though the Martell's have helped, weaving her past and present selves together is something that she has done herself and she is incredibly proud of that fact.

In her mind, Maya says the words of her House. Of both of her houses. Mormont and Martell together. She thinks that put together they sound strong, and her strength is something that she clings to fiercely. _Here we stand. Unbowed. Unbent. Unbroken._

When most of not only her father's House, but also her mother's, commit to fight and die in what they are calling the War of the Five Kings the word reaches Dorne on a bit of a delay but it does get there eventually, and it comes in the form of Myrcella Baratheon. The blonde is shy but quietly stubborn and she and Maya manage to coax each other out of their respective shells. Myrcella soon calls her sister and Maya returns the words. It makes Tristane beam with happiness as he says that his two favorite women in the world are friends so he is blessed and cursed at the same time.

For nearly three months Maya debates what she should do with the information she has. When she learns that both houses are being slowly obliterated she can't help but make her choice.

Doran Martell comes to her before she can go to him. He sends her on her way with a father's blessing for his daughter, several wickedly sharpened knives, a hunting bow to her measurements, fine clothing suitable for winter and travel, a full stock of medical herbs and supplies, a trunk to put it all in, and a fast ship to carry everything. He tells her that it will take her to Eastwatch by the sea where she will be able to refuel and get to Bear Island.

"Come back my girl," he tells her, planting a kiss to her forehead. "A piece of my heart will go with you and I imagine your brother will be inconsolable for a time."

Maya tells people goodbye one at a time but she promises that she will return and the Sand Snakes each give her a new piece of weaponry, poison included and insist that they will come to her aid to fight beside her even when Maya insists that she is going only to see what remains of her family, not to fight anyone.

Tristane just hugs her tightly and forces her to promise to send ravens always and says that if she doesn't come home quickly enough and he decides that he misses her too much he will journey to Westeros himself to drag her home.

Myrcella shyly hands her a written letter sealed with the Baratheon stag and another with the golden lion of Lannister and tells her to use them if she ever needs help in Westeros. Maya accepts them gratefully and hugs her back, neglecting to mention that House Mormont at least has certainly sided against both portions of Myrcella's birth family. _Bear Island knows no king, but the king in the North whose name is Stark._

Maya goes the next morning at dawn and once again she is crossing the narrow sea. It feels strange. In name at least she is going home, but Bear Island was her home for a very scant seven years, several of which she was too young to truly remember. She realizes faintly that she has lived more of her life calling Dorne her home than the rest of Westeros. It is in that moment that she promises herself that she will check on her family in Westeros, convince herself that they will be alright without her, and then return to Dorne to be with her father, brother, uncle, and cousins.

That is her plan, but things don't exactly go that way.

She arrives at East Watch and is immediately hailed with the news that the King in the North, Robb Stark, has been massacred at his own wedding. This comes with the attached meaning that almost all of her family is dead. Maya doesn't really know how to process that. She goes to the nearest inn for the night and works out her next move. Eventually, she decides that it should be to move to Castle Black.

She had decided not to take any guards with her from Dorn. Doran had offered them but Maya had declined. She hadn't wanted to travel across the narrow see with an armed hoard. Bringing a foreign army to a war torn country would only make things harder. All Maya wanted from this visit was to check on her remaining family. Maybe she would be able to find some of her younger cousins and bring them back to Dorne with her to grow up safe and happy in the warm sun. If any of them were still alive that was.

Anyway, Maya had traveled without guards and that had just became a vary dangerous thing. Her House of Brith was still her House of Birth, no longer how long it had been since she had last truly been a part of it, and her House of Birth had been branded as traitors. Her grandfather had been Lord Commander of the Watch last she had heard. Her memories of the man are of a kind though strict man with a firm demeanor and very particular tastes in spiced wine. She thinks that maybe he will provide her with a small escort with which to journey to Old Town. If he will not Maya knows that she will be able to hire sell swords, Doran gave her more than enough money as a parting gift, but she would rather not risk the implicit dangers that involves.

She spends an extra few coins for a hot meal to be brought to her room and for a hot bath to be drawn. She knows that no matter what happens in regards to help from the Black Brothers she will have at least a fortnight of hard riding ahead of her and the comfort of the hot water is incredibly worth it.

The wife of the innkeeper doesn't bat an eye when she requests her meal in her room and inquires as to where she can purchase a fast horse. After all, she is a fairly young girl, obviously alone, and dressed in fine clothes. The woman probably thinks that she is fleeing abuse, or possibly pregnant and going to elope. Maya doesn't care what she thinks. She hasn't been in the North for eight years and she was a child then. Even if her family had been more prominent then, she wouldn't be recognizable. She gives no family name and she becomes anonymous.

The next morning she goes to the nearby stable she was directed to and purchases the fastest horse she can find and the best saddle and set of tack she can find. The stable master is initially skeptical when he sees her but changes his mind when she asks every question she is meant to and carries the entire discussion. Oberyn and Tristane both loved horses and like most Northern children she learned to ride almost as soon as she could walk.

By the end of their conversation the Stable Master has cut her a better deal than she deserves and offers to prepare her chosen horse to ride himself. She thanks him with all the courtesy and kindness he deserves and after a brief delay all of her things have been strapped to the horse and she has a good supply of food and water. She knows how to get to Castle Black. Follow the wall North until it gets much, much colder.

In the end it takes her twelve days to arrive at Moles Town. The journey had been incredibly hard. Her entire body is sore from constant riding and sleeping on the ground but she is pleased with the time she's managed to make and the fact that she never came across a single other living soul on the road. The fewer people she has to interact with the less attention she will draw to herself. Until she knows what exactly is happening in Westeros that's the smartest option.

That's when she meets Jon Snow.

He rides in to Mole Town like every beast in all seven hells is chasing him and stops at the Inn for a new horse. He's wearing the armor of a man of the Watch and the cloak of a Wildling. His dark hair is in whirling corkscrew all around his face which is brightened red from the wind and the cold. His eyes are deep set and rich brown and he has the long, drawn, Northern face of a true Stark.

What Maya notices is the blood.

There isn't as much as there might be, but there's enough of it mixed in amongst the grime he's gathered on the road all over his clothes that Maya knows he's very hurt no matter how well he's hiding it. There are three arrows sticking out of his chest and Maya moves with an instinct born and nurtured in Braavos and under the Dornish sun.

She goes to him as he attempts to explain his need for a horse to the owner of the Inn and pushes him in to a seat in the main hall. It takes very little effort though Maya can feel the lean muscles in his arm and shoulder and knows that if he was less hurt and felt more like fighting back she wouldn't have been able to budge him an inch. At that moment though, he sits without even asking her name and only gets around to it after Maya has managed to pull his cloak away and is preparing to cut off the arrow heads and remove the shafts.

"What's your name," he asks, voice thick with the accent of the North.

"You can call me Maya," she answers. It's her real name which she doesn't mean to give but it's out before she thinks about it and then it's too late to take it back. Still though, she hasn't given her last name and that's enough to ensure some decent anonymity. "Sit still," she commands, grasping the arrow shafts. She pauses a moment before warning, "this will hurt."

Jon nods once and Maya takes that as a sign to keep going. She pulls the arrows out, cleans them, and patches each one one at a time to minimize blood loss. Ideally she'd put in stitches but Jon is in too much of a hurry. As she works he warns the entire inn that an army of Wildlings are on their way to attack Castle Black. He asks for any supplies the people can spare as well as any men able to fight and tells the women to take their children and run.

Too few people listen to him.

However, Maya learns something important. It's very simple. Jon, whoever he is, is a good man. By Westerosi standards anyway. he wants to save as many people as he possibly can. It's a whim but Maya decides to help him do it.

As Jon is leaving Maya brings her own horse up next to him fully loaded and ready to go. "I'm coming with you," she announces.

"No you're not," Jon replies immediately climbing on to his horse and begin to urge it to move.

Maya steps in front of him and stares him down. One of the other things the Mormonts and the Martell's have in common is that they are stubborn, and maya has that particular trait in spades. "I patched your wounds myself," she tells him. "I assume that you are planning to ride hard and ride fast. In two hours you'll have bled through the bandage and here we are still at least four hours away even riding the fastest horse in the North and that," she gestures to his mount. "Is not it. Besides, if there's to be a war their will be wounded and I am a healer."

Maybe the argument sways him. Maybe Jon just decides that arguing with her will take too much time. Either way Maya can see the moment that he relents and he buckles the rest of the way with a sigh and he gestures for her to mount her horse. She does and Jon looks at her seriously. "You'll have to keep up," he warns. "It'll be a hard ride and I won't be stopping."

"I can handle a difficult journey," Maya tells him dryly and kicks her horse in to a trot that just verges on the edge of a gallop. She turns a bit in the saddle to look back at him. "Perhaps you ought to ride in front," she suggests. "You know the way." It's hard to tell if Jon is frowning, his face is so serious to begin with, but his mouth seems to twist just slightly and he brings his horse ahead of hers to lead.

He wasn't lying, the pace he keeps is a hard one. But Maya is also right. Before they're half way to Castle Black he has begun to hunch over in pain. Maya can see blood beginning to leak down his arm, out of his sleeve, and onto the reins. With a growl of frustration that's barely audible Jon switches the reins over to his left hand and manages that way for a while until it appears to prove too painful.

"We should stop," Maya suggests. "I'll put on a new bandage."

Jon grits his teeth and shakes his head once. "No time. We need to reach Castle black before nightfall."

"Which we won't do if you bleed to death," she replies.

Jon gestures ahead of him with one hand. "I'll pass out before that. If i do you tie up my horse behind yours and ride that way until you reach a fork in the road. When that happens go North until you reach the castle gate. They'll let you inn so long as I'm there behind you."

Maya is too smart not to recognize what Jon has done. In theory he has opened the door for her to cut and run, leave him behind to either bleed to death or make his way on his own. He's also provided her a lifeline if he dies. She decides in that moment that Jon is either very trusting or very honorable and she doesn't quite know which option would be more troubling.

They continue on at a swift gallop though by the time they have reached the fork in the road that Jon mentioned and have taken the turn North his pace is flagging. Maya ensures that she keeps her horse close to the side of his. If he falls, Maya isn't sure that the saddle will be enough to keep him on his horse. To be honest she sin't sure she will be able to catch him either if he truly falls, but she won't let her only ally be trampled.

As the Castle comes in to view Jon manages to form words again for the first time in at least an hour. "Keep-" he begins and then has to stop and swallow. "Keep your hood up until we get through the gate."

Maya draws up the hood of her dark blue cloak without comment. There are no women at Castle Black and there never have been. By keeping her face and hair covered until they are through the door Jon is bypassing the possibility that they will be stopped at the Gate to answer questions.

It turns out to be a very good move because when they canter up to the gate they are not halted even for a moment. The horn blasts to signal a brother returning and the Gate opens before they can even reach it. Once through Maya jumps down from her saddle before her horse stops and in doing so just manages to keep Jon from cracking his head open on the frozen ground when he collapses.

Three men rush forwards to help Jon as cries of recognition are uttered by many voices. Maya ignores them and has already begun to try to peal open Jon's cloak where blood and cold have begun to seal the fabric shut. She curses in a way that would shock her mother but make Oberyn and Tristane smile and reaches for her dagger, intending to cut the cloth apart.

The brother who arrived first is overweight and soft looking but he seems to know Jon better than the others. "It's alright," he says. "It's alright Jon. You're home now. You're home." He turns to the other two men, one with large ears and the other an impish looking mouth and says. "Bring him inside to Maester Aemon."

Maya is relieved to hear that there is a Maester present and follows the three men as they begin to move Jon inside. The soft looking one goes ahead calling for the Maester and opening doors, clearing the way. The more muscled of the other two men takes the weight of Jon's upper body and the other his feet. None of them takes the time to look at her carefully and she doubts that they've really noticed her at all in their worry for Jon. Clearly they are friends.

Jon is deposited on a cot in the Maester's chambers and Maya picks up the sharpest knife she can find and proceeds to cut open Jon's blood soaked clothes to reveal the gaping holes in his chest where the arrows used to be. She extracts a bottle from her bag which is filled with an almost pure extraction of alcohol and drenches the wounds with it directly after splashing water over Jon's chest to clear away the blood. Jon jerks and gasps and Maya knows that the alcohol must hurt like bloody murder but Sam tells the other two men to hold him still.

Maya dimly registers that their named are Pip and Grenn.

The other man, Sam, thrusts a needle already threaded with silk thread in to her hand and Maya begins to stitch faster than she ever has before. She makes the stitches close together and as carefully as she can but if she goes to slowly the blood will obscure her stitches. The fact that the wounds are on his chest and someone his back makes things tricky because the sin on those parts of the body is stretched taught naturally but she manages and by the time she is done Jon is gasping and white, and clearly in pain but he's alive and Maya is fairly certain that he will stay that way.

The Maester who had been quiet until then hands her a bowl of sharp smelling ointment and lays several bandages on the table beside her. Maya sees that his eyes are blind and staring and his hands shake slightly. It's no wonder he let her handle all of the stitching. The Maester grips her hand to place the bowl into it and pauses a moment, feeling the long thins lines of her hand. He nods as though something has been confirmed to him and says "There you are my dear. I trust our young Lord Snow will live to see tomorrow."

"Dear?" Grenn repeats in confusion.

Maya knows that at this point they have begun to notice things like her small stature, long cloak, and large hood. The game is up and Maya pushes back her hood. "Yes Maester thank you."

Master Aemon moves coser to Jon's bed and reaches out to gingerly touch her stitches, examining them with his finger. "Good stitching," he approves. "Now I think perhaps some milk of the Poppy and perhaps some willow bark tea for the pain to help him sleep. Rest is so very often the best medicine. Tarly? You know where those supplies are. Bring them here would you."

Pip and Grenn back out gawking and a shooing gesture from Sam who, though surprised, has managed to recover from the discovery of her gender more quickly than the other two. Sam Tarly walks back over holding the two liquids Maester Aemon asked for and pauses, seemingly unsure about who to hand them to. "Give them to the Lady Tarly," the Maester says with a touch of impatience and Sam does it.

Maya takes them and then turns to look at Jon. He's half unconscious already and dazed with pain but with Sam helping to prop his head up she manages to slip drops of Willow bark tea past his lips and down his throat. The pain relief seems more important than a drugged sleep so she does that before she attempts the milk of the poppy. She gets Jon to swallow a little of that too before he really does pass out.

She and the Maester both take seats on opposite sides of Jon and after a while Sam slips away at a word from Maester Aemon and returns with food for both of them and a pail of sand and hot water for scrubbing. He works to clean up the blood and mess from her rushed medical treatment and Maya relays part of her story to the Maester. She keeps things a bit vague for the moment, mindful that Sam is still in the room. He seems kind but Maya learned long ago not to simply trust that there is truth in how people seem. She says that she journeyed to Mole Town from Eastwatch Harbor and encountered Jon in there, deciding to go with him when she saw his injuries and told his tale about the Wildling Army. She's grateful that she manages to tell the entire tale without actually lying.

For the next two days most of her time is spent by Jon's bedside in the Maester's chambers. The fire there is kept burning day and night and Maya relishes in the warmth. She may have the blood of the North in her veins but Castle Black is still much much colder than the climate she grew used to in Dorne.

Maester Aemon seems to actually enjoy her presence. He tells her it's been a long time since he had such constant company that shared his interest in healing and medicinal herbs. Sam proves sweet and tries to be helpful however he can. Maya learns quickly that he loves stories and knowledge and absorbs all words the way the ground in Dorne absorbs water after a long drought.

For most of the day she is left alone. Maester Aemon has other injuries around the Castle that he has to treat and Sam has other duties to attend to as a Steward. Maya commits herself to helping Maester Aemon by preparing his herbs, organizing the shelves to his specifications, and taking a full and detailed inventory. She also asks Sam to find her something to read and it proves immensely helpful. An unconscious Jon Snow isn't much of a conversationalist.

He drifts in and out of consciousness for the greater part of two days before managing to wake up and stay that way. When it happens he tries to sit up and falls back with a gasp of pain. He keeps his eyes screwed up and tries to control his breathing. Even alone he seems to be refusing to truly show pain.

"Careful," Maya warns, pushing gently though firmly against his shoulder. "I made good stitches but they'll still tear if you pull too much. Keep still while I check them and in a moment we'll try again."

Jon obeys her and Maya bends forward to make sure none of the stitches pulled loose at his abrupt motion earlier. They appear to have held and she nods in satisfaction, moving to pour water in to an earthenware cup form a clay jug on the windowsill. She can feel Jon's eyes following her around the room as he takes everything in. "Castle Black," he says, voice rough with disuse. "Where's Maester Aemon?"

"Treating other patients," Maya replies. "Someone called Edd appears to have caught a bad head cold. Here," she places the cup on the bedside table and helps Jon prop himself up against the wall using a pillow. She picks the cup back up again and extends it to him but doesn't let go of it. Jon's fingers wrap around the cup under hers but his grip is weak so Maya shadows the cup to his mouth and helps him take a long drink. "Slowly," she warns. "Too much and you'll feel sick."

When the cup is drained she sets it aside and asks the question that has been on the tip of her tongue for days. "So who'd you piss off?"

Jon's brow furrows in confusion. "What?"

"You were shot three times and you aren't dead," Maya explains calmly. "Any archer who can hit you three times in the chest and not kill you doesn't really want you dead, they want you to feel pain. So..." she lets the question hang for a moment. "Who'd you piss off?"

"A girl," Jon says and then shuts his mouth. Apparently conscious Jon Snow isn't much of a conversationalist either.

Maya can take a hint and swiftly changes the subject over to the fact that she needs to change the dressing and his bandages. Jon nods and Maya lets him sin back in to his own thoughts as she works. When the smell of the dressing reaches Jon's nose he frowns. "What's that stuff?"

"Witch Hazel, Boiled Garlic, and Echinacea," she tells him. "Not the most pleasant smelling poultice but certainly the most effective. It will dry in a few minutes and then the smell won't be so strong." She applies the poultice and clean bandages and begins to smooth them down to ensure that they are tied securely.

The next few days continue to pass in a similar manner. She helps Maester Aemon, talks about books and poetry with Sam, and once or twice even encounters Pip and Grenn who seem to have adjusted to her presence. For the sake of dodging the death glares and unpleasant leers of Janos Slynt and Ser Allester she keeps herself out of sight as much as possible and avoids eating in the main hall.

Most of her time is still spent with Jon in mostly silence. She tends his wounds and keeps track of how they are closing. The healing is going more quickly than she would have hoped and she thinks she will be able to take the stitches out soon. The more time they spend together the better she gets at reading his expressions and his body language. He's growing impatient with feeling weak and Maya knows that if she doesn't clear him soon for activity he will push himself too far.

News of the Red Wedding comes and that's the first time Maya ever sees Jon break. As Sam finishes telling him that his brother has been murdered he nods once and a moment later drives his fist in to the wall once, twice, three times, then he stops and tries to shake out his hand cursing. "He was my brother!" he spits out. "I should have been there. I should have been there to protect him!"

Maya picked up a cloth and moves to tie it around his knuckles, forcing him to bend and flex his fingers to ensure that he hasn't managed to break anything even if his left hand isn't his sword arm. "You'd have died to," she tells him.

"You don't know that!" he snaps at her with wild, angry eyes.

There's a fire there that Maya hasn't seen in him before and she suddenly knows that Jon Snow for all of his silence can turn deadly very easily with the right provocation, but she doesn't back down. Among the dead at the Frey slaughter were the last remaining Hightowers and all but a handful of Mormonts. She is furious and devastated and most of all she is exhausted. "I know that there was a bloody Northern Army at that wedding to protect your brother and he died anyway," she fires back. With a final tug to secure the new bandage she backs away. "If you'd have been there you'd have died to and your sworn brothers would have one more body to burn."

There's another long silence. Jon breaks it by saying "Where did you come from?"

She doesn't look up. His tone implies that the question is actually a demand and he won't drop the topic until he has an answer. She takes an extra moment under the pretense of checking the knot she's just tied. in her mind she flicks through different options of what to tell him and settles on the undefiled, unvarnished truth. "I rode to Mole Town from East Watch Harbor," she says. "Before that Dorne." Jon scoffs once which is about as much humor as she has ever seen from him and she looks up to meet his eyes which seem brighter and more engaged than they have been before though rage and anger boil below the thin humor. "What's funny about that?" she demands,

"Your hair," Jon tells her lifting a hand slightly, almost brushing a finger along the end of her braid, tracing a blonde streak. "I've never heard of a Dornish girl with light hair and blue eyes." After that his hand drops like a rock back down to his side.

Maya pulls a face. She knows it's true. Most of the people of Dorne have hair like Tristane's. Ebony black and curly with chocolate colored eyes. Her hair and northern complexion were both oddities. On market day when she would walk through the streets, old women occasionally would reach out and rub strands of her hair between their fingers as if it would bring them good luck.

"I only said I came from Dorne," she reminds him. "I never said I was born there."

"No," Jon agrees. "No you didn't." He paces to the end of the room and stands at the window for a long moment before turning back. "You're a Northerner aren't you?" He seems to take in her look of surprise and elaborates. "You don't look it. Not really. But I've lived in the North all my life. It sticks to you, in your skin, in your bones. You've got the North in you just as much as I've it in me."

Maya sighs and realizes she'll have to tell him something. Jon is quite because he prefers to watch everyone instead, and he's been watching her. "My Father was Northern," she admits. "My Mother wasn't. She went back North with my Father after they were married. She hated everything about this entire part of the country. I think she was relieved when we left for the Free Cities. I was seven."

Jon moves closer and sits down across from her. "What happened to them?"

She meets his eyes. "I don't know," she says honestly. "My Father went off to the fighting pits when we ran out of money. My Mother waited all of a fortnight before giving up hope that he would come back. Some rich Braavosi offered to take her away and she accepted." She shrugs "For all I know both of them are dead."

"How did you end up here?" he asks. Maya can see a new ridge forming in his forehead.

"I was adopted by a Dornish family when I was eleven," she tells him. "I came back to Westeros when I heard about the war of the Five Kings. I wanted t see if what was left of my family here was still alive." A few tears that she had been trying to hold back since the conversation started leak down her cheeks and Maya wipes them away impatiently. "Of course now I _know_ that they are not."

It is in that moment that the truth of what she's said hits her. The entirety of her family is dead apart from a single cousin on Bear Island. Gods is she Lady Hightower now? Lady Mormont? Lady Hightower almost surely. Fuck if that doesn't complicate every single little thing in her life.

More tears leak out and at this point she doesn't even try to stop them. Jon sits with her quietly, shifting slightly in his seat as though he is settling in for a long wait. Maya knows that out of all people he won't judge her tears. They all have different ways to grieve their dead family. Jon will punch a wall and blame himself. Maya will sit and let everything to sink in and try very hard not to break down completely.

She tells Jon the complete truth of who she is just before he leaves for the excursion he has been granted to Crastor's Keep to rout the mutineers who killed her grandfather Lord Commander Mormont. He is just finishing saddling his horse when she approaches him. He sees her coming and turns to face her with that signature small smile that seems to so often be all that he is really capable of. "Any advice," he asks.

"You mean something other than 'don't die'?" she asks archly. Jon's smile grows the tiniest bit and Maya can't help but be a bit proud for a moment. She sobers quickly though, noting that Jon's hand rests on the pommel of a familiar sword. She nods to it. "May I see?"

Jon frowns in confusion but extracts the blade from it's sheath and holds it out for her to inspect. Hesitantly, she reaches out and closes her fingers around the hilt just above his own gloved hands. her fingers seem tiny in comparison, pale and thin. Jon releases the blade when she nods that she has a decent grip. She takes a step back and lifts the sword moving it and shifting it's weight experimentally. The blade is heavy, though not as heavy as it might be.

"This blade was forged for House Mormont a thousand years ago from the finest Valyrian steel. Forged in the fires of Old Valyria," she muses. "Passed through the centuries from father to son until it reached my Father Ser Jorah Mormont who left it behind when he went in to exile taking my mother and I with him." She holds the hilt out for him to retake which he does after a moment of being seemingly frozen in shock. "My Grandfather gave it to you, and they killed him," she says, her tone deadly calm and deadly serious. "Use that blade to cut them apart. Cut out their hearts, chop of their heads, I don't care. They murdered one of the only family I knew loved me." She hands over a small packet of herbs and bandages. "Make them bleed."

With that she walks away, and hopes desperately that she will see him again.

She does.

Jon returns and their is snow fluttering all around. It's the kind of gentle beautiful flurry that she hasn't seen since she was a little girl and she makes one of her few forays outside to stand in it for a moment. Normally both she and Gilly stay inside and out of sight unless Maester Aemon is with them. Sam normally tags along as well but Maya thinks that that is more to make himself feel better. Now Gilly has gone to Mole Town and this is a special case anyway. It means that she's in the courtyard when the horn blows to signal the return of other brothers.

Jon comes through the gate with fewer brothers than those he left with but seems to be mostly unhurt. A huge white wolf that Maya knows must be the Dire Wolf she has heard whispers about trots silently by his side. The wolf in question moves silently past Jon and straight for her, scaring the absolute hell out of her in the process. But the wolf simply walks up as she stands frozen and nuzzles his great black nose against her palm, ducking his head in to her hand in a self-administered stroke.

"Back Ghost!" Jon calls, but Ghost merely turns to gaze back at him before turning back to Maya, nudging his large head in to her stomach. The wolf is so large that he actually has to duck his head to do it.

"It's alright," Maya tells Jon, getting over her original shock and taking up the job of scratching behind Ghosts surprisingly sou and fluffy white ears. "My father and grandfather both used to keep hounds when I was a girl. None so large as this, it's true. But I have always liked wolves."

In the next moment Ser Allister has injected his normal nastiness in to the situation and has ordered Jon to remove Ghost from the yard. The Direwolf licks Maya's palm before leaving with Jon as he complies with Allister's orders. Maya notes that on his face their is very on Jon's face other than thinly veiled hatred as he does it.

Later after Jon has given his report on what has happened and things have settled slightly he comes to her and tries to return Longclaw to her.

Maya refuses, pushing the whole thing, sheath and all back in to his hands. "I can barely even lift it Jon," she tells him gently. "Valyrian Steel or not it's still too heavy for me to carry, much left wield correctly. The only thing I could do with it would be mount it on a wall someplace where it looked nice. That is not what swords are for."

"This sword has belonged in your family for generations," Jon protests. "I am nothing but a bastard from the North. I have no name, no land, and no inheritance that is mine. Longclaw is yours by rights."

"Then I give it to _you,"_ Maya insists. "The Mormont men have carried that sword in to battle. There are no more Mormont men. The last one was my grandfather and he is dead. You've used this sword to avenge his murder, far more than I could have done with it." She takes a risk and reaches out, place one of her hands over his. "My Grandfather chose you to continue to carry my Family's legacy in giving you that sword. Use it to defend yourself. Keep yourself alive for as long as you can. Fight for those in this world who are good in the name of my family."

She takes a step away but Jon grips her hand in his before she can remove it. "You know," he says hoarsely. "That the Wildling Army is coming. See Allister won't listen to me. I am probably going to die. And soon. Then what will become of this symbol of your family?"

Maya shrugs. "It will die in the hands of a good man."

"And what if you have sons?" Jon pursues doggedly. "You are a noble woman. A lady by all rights. Some day you will likely marry and have children. Children more worthy who will be a part of your true family."

Maya looks up at his serious dark brown eyes and takes a slow, deliberate, step in to him. She can feel the warmth he seems to radiate from his skin and smell the scent of leather and pine that marks him. "If it is true what you say, that you will be dead when the Wildling army comes, then they will not simply leave me here alive and unharmed. I may be killed or kidnapped or worse. But I will not live to happily marry and have sons who will carry my Father's sword. If you die and have no more need of the sword, then no one will ever come to collect it."

Jon draws in a shallow breath looking down at her. "And if we live?" he says quietly.

She shakes her head very slightly and bights her lip. "If we live," she repeats. "Then someday, when we have both grown old and grey, I will permit you to return Longclaw to me."

Jon releases a shaky breath and threads his fingers gently through hers. He takes a half step back. His hand turns in hers, cupping it from underneath and brings her fingers up, brushing his lips against her knuckles like a proper nobleman addressing a noble girl. "I look forward to that day My Lady," he says, meeting her gaze with steady eyes.

Maya nods. "As do I, My Lord."

With that she turns and moves quickly back along the hallway.

Soon Gilly arrives, fleeing from the sacking of Mole Town back to Castle Black and Sam and what she sees as safety. Despite the circumstances Maya is happy to see both her and Baby Sam. Sometimes when Maya has a moment free she plays with the baby to give Gilly a break and the Wildling girl seems to appreciate it. Despite their differences in upbringing and background it is nice to have another girl around to talk to as they go about their respective daily tasks. They don't get much time to enjoy the company before the entire watch goes in to overdrive preparing for siege.

Maya does so much running around to collect ingredients for poultices she thinks she may be wearing holes in her boots. Her fingers constantly smell of ground herbs and honey. She's nicked her fingers three times trying to cut enough bandages to be prepares for the substantial blood losses, and if she whales any more of the milk of the poppy she's been abstracting she'll never actually have to take any again in her life.

Sam just seems most worried about trying to keep Gilly safe no matter what the scenario and Jon has taken over trying to train the other Brothers so that they will be prepared to fight back against the Wildlings.

Maya watches him train sometimes and she's honest with herself enough to admit that it's a sight to behold. Jon fights in a way that is really and truly terrifying. He's fluid but not pretty in his movements and at times he's completely vicious and unpredictable. Jon has also adopted Ollie in a way after the young boy arrives to them after his village was slaughtered. Maya tries to help keep him busy and the boy never seems to mind helping her do rounds or errands.

Then the night of the battle comes. To Maya the entire event is a blurring, flashing, mess of blood and gore. She uses every scrap of clothe she can find to stop bleeding. She relocates joints and sets bones. She patches up broken men and sends them back out to break again. It's grueling and heart wrenching and provides a million different sections of material for her cynical mind to pour over later.

The Wildlings breach the main gates sometime before dawn and it's at that point that trying to heal the wounded becomes pointless. They either won't check in or can't get to her anymore and she can't get to them. She drops her supplies, and picks up the knives she brought with her from Dorne.

The knives are long, gleamingly sharp Valyrian Steel which were handed down through a long line of Martells. They are thin and exceptionally well balanced. These are weapons made for women. Tristane had told her that family legend said that the daggers were first forged as a wedding gift from Aegon the Conqueror to the first Master Martell to bow to the Dragon King and become Prince of Dorne. Since then they had become traditional gifts from fathers to their first born daughters when they reached marrying age.

Maya had begun training with these on her twelfth name day. The first one she had celebrated as a member of the Martell House. The pommel was wrapped in a grip of thick, soft leather that conformed to her fingers and the shape of her hand. The knives were more than weapons, they were extensions of her.

Maya cut a quick and efficient path through the oncoming Wildlings. Where she can risk it she does her best to incapacitate instead of kill but often she doesn't have the time to make that kind of consideration. She takes them down as quickly as possible, and _gods_ is she quick. Oberyn had taught her to strike like a viper. He had told her that she was simply too small to endure a drawn out fight and so had instructed her to move like lightning, and it was a lesson she had headed well.

For the most part she carries a slight advantage. Most men, even Wildling men who have their Spearwives and higher levels of equality than most of Westeros experience a split moment of hesitation when they are faced with the prospect of fighting what appears at first glance to be a small girl. Maya never fails to take these openings for all that they are worth, and in the end they are worth lives. Theirs for hers. She doesn't like killing, but Maya knows that in that deal, she will always value her own life more.

Over the course of the night she passes Sam running the other direction towards Gilly and the baby. She does her best to save Pip but in the end an arrow to the throat simply can't be fixed. She never sees Jon but she sees Ghost moving swiftly through the fighting as a white streak splattered with blood around the muzzle. She hears Grenn tell Sam that Jon has command of the wall.

At the end of the fighting when the sun rises the next morning Jon, Sam, Gilly, and the baby are alive as are Maester Aemon, Thorne, Slynt, Ollie, and a number of others. Forty Black Brothers are dead. Pip and Grenn are among them. So is a Wildling girl with bright red hair whose body Jon cradled for several long moments after Ollie shot her. Maya refuses to ask apart from taking his hand for a brief moment and murmuring "So that was her?"

Jon nods without looking around. "Yes," he replies. "That was Ygritte."

Maya doesn't try to comfort or placate him. It would be pointless to do so. Instead she tightens her fingers around his for a moment before moving away to see to the rest of the wounded. Gods, there are so many wounded. Maya has never seen so many hurt and bleeding men in one place before. She and Maester Aemon are busy all day and she enlists Ollie's help to grind herbs and cut bandages. No one else seems to have immediate use for him and she needs all the help she can get. Besides, the boy needs some kind of task to keep him safe and occupied. Maya never had a younger brother but she thinks she might have liked one like Ollie.

She's toweling crushed marigold and aloe vera plants off of her fingers when she walks past Jon and Sam debating Jon's orders to go beyond the wall to negotiate with Mance Rayder. It's a suicide mission almost beyond doubt and Maya attaches herself to it without a second thought, making her presence known to the two men in the process. "Think of me as a peace offering," she tells Jon to quell the protests she knows he's forming. "I'll go as an unarmed medic. They will have wounded as well. For all you know my presence will buy you the time you need to do what you must."

"And for all we know Mance'll take one look at me and gut us both like a pair of brooke trout," Jon points out darkly.

She manages a crooked smile. "Well he might gut _you_ like a brooke trout," she tells him. "I've not done anything to him. Besides, I have a highly valued skill set as a prisoner. They'll probably leave me alive until their wounded are back on their feet. Maybe even longer if one of their valued members is sick or pregnant." She shrugs. "I may be the best option you have."

With that she has won. Or maybe lost. It's quite possible she won't know which until it's too late.

She changes clothes before she goes, dressing in thick stockings, warm boots, warm petticoats, and a simple dark green traveling dress with a grey cloak and rich fur hood. She takes the additional moment to brush out the long waves of her hair and thread it in to a long braid bound at the bottom with a scrap of green ribbon. A glance in a pale of water confirms what she suspected in her reflection. She looks the part of a Northern girl through and through. She slings a large bag of herbs and bandages over her shoulder and hangs one of her knives from a cord around her waist inside her clock.

The whole process takes perhaps twenty minutes before she rejoins Jon and Sam at the gate. She knows that the two have had some kind of fight over what they are about to do, but she resolves not to press. They have enough problems to try to deal with.

"Shall we go?" she asks, looking up at Jon.

His eyes flit over her once quickly, taking in the effect she has created with the alteration to her appearance that the new clothes and hair bring. Then he nods, checks that Longclaw still hangs at his side, nods goodbye to Sam and starts off. Maya gives Sam the same recognition along with a small, scared smile, and follows Jon out in to the wind and the cold.

It flits across her mind briefly that this is the farthest she has ever been North, and she's getting farther with every step.

 **A/N: So how was it? I have some of a part two in the works if you guys are interested. I've just watched most of GoT and read a bunch of other fan fiction so it was on my brain. I just thought maybe Jon needed a love interest that didn't involve incest, even if that is the norm for the actual show. If you want to see part two let me know. Review for me! xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Yeah no. I own nothing.**

The minute they enter the camp they are surrounded by a knot of heavily armed Wildlings. They are bristled looking and terrifying at first but on closer inspection Maya can see that they are all run-down and tired. A large, solid looking man with wild red hair and an equally disheveled red beard steps to the front and addresses Jon with no particular malice though his language is rough. They are then conducted to Mance Rayder's tent. Until they enter no one even spares a glance at Maya.

Mance fixes his eyes on her after Jon has explained that he is only there to treat for a cease fire. Jon notices and moves slightly to the side and offers a hand to help Maya forward. Maya doesn't actually need the help, but she recognizes that the picture it creates is that she is a proper lady, the kind that implies education and the kind of training she would receive as a healer. It also cements her in to the least threatening version of herself she can possibly appear to be.

"This is Maya," Jon introduces. "She's a healer."

Mance grunts. "A healer from back on the other side of that Wall. What reason could you have girl, for wanting to patch us up after it's your lot whose been slaughtering us?"

Maya meets his gaze levelly and does not flinch despite the less than friendly tone. The King Beyond the Wall is direct, she can work with that. "A dying man, woman, or child is still a dying man, woman, or child no matter which side of an ice wall they're born on," she says. "If I can save a life or ease a dying man's suffering I'll do it. Walls and boundaries be damned."

The Wildling King considers her for another long moment before nodding. "My woman Dalla is giving birth a few tents away," he states. "They've called a midwife but births are always dangerous. Whatever medicine you've got I want you to use on her, understand?"

Maya flicks a quick glance over to Jon who gives a small nod and then she turns back to Mance to give her agreement. In the next moment she has been whisked out of Mance's tent, out in to the cold air, and then back in to a new tent where the air is stiflingly hot. Maya has to stop for a moment and blink at the quick transition and loss of lighting before she can concentrate on what's actually in the room.

A women Maya guesses is Mance's wife Dalla is reclined on a large pile of furs, face flushed and contorted in pain. A wisened old woman who is missing most of her teeth stands over a large pot of water that has been set to boil whom she learnes is the midwife. A taller woman with a long blonde braid introduces herself as Dalla's sister Val.

Maya isn't sure she knows much about medicine or birthing a child, but she ends up being glad for the other girl's presence as it turns out that she is the only person in the room truly capable of bridging the language gap. The midwife doesn't know a word of Common Tongue, and Dalla is too consumed with birthing pains to form most words regardless of language. Maya grew up knowing Common Tongue and prides herself on having picked up Dornish and Valyrian over the years, but she never learned any of the various Wildling langauges. Val becomes the only avenue of communication she has.

The birth is Dalla's first and by all the gods does is it long. It's also the first birth that Maya has ever handled by herself and the third she's ever witnessed. All of the blood and strain stretches her nerves to the very edges of their tolerance and more than once she knows she's on the verge of panicking completely. How she manages to keep herself together is completely beyond her own comprehension.

Bringing Dalla's baby in to the world is complex and absolutely exhausting and for the longest time Maya is almost convinced that the babe simply _won't_ be coming in to the world today. The end product though, turns out to be totally, completely, worth it. A tiny, red, squalling, mess of a newborn with a tuft of black hair joins the occupancy of the tent and the wave of relief that flows over Maya at the sound of the child's tiny cries seems strong enough to carry her off her feet like a physical push.

Maya cleans the baby and checks his breathing and eyes before placing him on Dalla's chest wrapped in the softest bit of cloth she could locate. She also chekcs Dalla's heart and breathing and leaves a package of herbs and a water skin with Val with detailed instructions on how Dalla whould take them. Val listens attentively and repeats back what she's been told to demonstrate that she understands it, looking to Maya for confirmation that she has the information correct. Maya nods, knowing that with this successful birth she has gained an alie at the very least.

Then she stumbles out in to the fresh air, needing to escape the oppressive warmth, dim lighting, and the scent of blood. For a long moment she simply stands with her eyes shut, taking in the air and enjoying the cold bight of the wind on her face and the soft brush of snow on her exposed skin. With one more deep breath she opens her eyes and gasps. For a moment she wonders if she's passed out from tiredness, or if the strain of the day is making her see things.

The sight she is greated with is completely different from the look of the camp she had first walked through with Jon. Braziers and small structures have been knocked over and trampled. Horses whicker and whinny and dogs bark. Men in the thick leather and plate of Westerosi knights stride back and forth about the camp wearing Baratheon colors. Wildlings are scattered about trying to pick up the scattered debris.

Upon seeing this Maya decides that it might be best if she keeps out of sight as much as possible. She doesn't have to go far (which is damn lucky as she probably couldn't get far anyway) to find some fresh snow and uses it to rub blood and birthing gore off of her hands. Her clothes are safe as she removed her overdress and cloack near the beginning of the birth.

She's getting ready to gather herself to slip back in to the tent to perform a final check on Dalla and her baby when one of the armored soldiers begins to make his way towards her. Maya debates weather she should dodge away but eventually decides against it. The man seems more intent than anything else and a gut instinct tells her that this man is no immediate threat despite his rough appearance.

He wears the armor of a Baratheon and there is a large broadsword hanging at his side. He has one hand resting on the pommel and a quick glance at his other hand reveals that his fingers have been cut off at the second knuckle. Maya knows enough about the who's who of Westeros to recognize these markers as meaning that the man is Davos Seaworth, made famous by his actions during the Uprising.

"Lady Mormont?" he states the title like it's a question and Maya understand why. Despite her best efforts her skin is still stained with gore. Her hair has fallen out of it's braid and multiple strands hang loose to just above her hips. She also knows she's flushed and sweaty and all in all looks a mess.

The title also makes her pause, it's almost shocking to hear again after so long. She knows instinctively that this is a moment that she can't return from. If she acknowledges her position at this moment it will be impossible to take it back. She will not be able to be "just Maya" again while she remains in the North. Still though, she isn't at all sure that she knows how she's supposed to be "Lady Mormont" again either. "Yes?" she says slowly.

Ser Davos takes her confirmation in stride and Maya decides she might just like him better for it. He steps closer to her and his fingers flex on the pommel of his sword. "His Majesty King Stannis Baratheon would like to speak to you," he announces. He hesitates over some of the words as though he still has trouble getting his mind and his tongue around all of the words.

Maya realizes that they are on equal footing here. Both of them are fumbling for the strict protocol of courtesies that they are meant to follow and neither are quite sure that they are managing it correctly. She decides that instead of making things more complicated she will do her best to play her role just as he is. "Of course My Lord," she says, dipping her head respectfully. "Would you perhaps permit me a moment to make myself presentable? I fear assisting a birth is a rather indelicate business."

The Onion Knight dips his head in return. "Of course My Lady," he replies formally. "Though I do have to ask that your moment be a small one. King Stannis is eager to continue his march to Castle Black and our only Sworn Brother refuses to start before he's seen that you're alive and well."

"Jon?" she asks. It's a break of proper courtesy to use Jon's first name but Maya doesn't particularly care. Ser Davos' implication that Jon is alive brings every worry she has been repressing for the past several hours to the forefront of her mind in sharp focus. "Is he-"

Davos lifts a hand to stop her mid query. "Alive and well My Lady," he assures. "Though the sooner he sees that you are as well the sooner we will all be on the other side of the Wall, and that much safer for it."

It's not a very subtle prompt to hurry up and be ready to go but Maya takes it gracefully for what it is and slips back in to the tent. She uses a fresh pale of melted snow to scrub the rest of the gore off of her skin and quickly re-dones her cloak and overdress. She manages to convey a request to Val and the Wildling women lends her a rough comb and helps her to recapture her hair in a simple braid. Maya thanks her with a smile, picks up her bag, and bids the women and the new baby goodbye before rejoining Davos outside.

The wind had picked up and Maya was fairly sure that the temperature had dropped. The sky was a cool, steely grey that seemed to have sealed in the entire camp. Maya squinted up at the sky and found a seamless mass of clouds. Stray pieces of hair keep whipping in to her face as they walked and by the time they make it to the command tent Maya is freezing.

The air in the tent is much warmer and it washes over her like bath water. She barely has time to look around before she her feet are suddenly leaving the ground and her vision is obscured by the tangled black fur that edges Jon's cloak. Maya relaxes in to the hug and squeezes back for a moment before Jon lowers her back to the ground and takes a quick step back.

"Are you alright?" he asks in a low tone.

"Fine," Maya assures. "No one came near the tent. I didn't even know anything had happened until I walked outside and saw the soldiers." She looks him up and down carefully. She can see no sign of any blood, and he picked her up easily enough, but his dark clothing would go far in concealing blood and it wouldn't be too unlikely that he would ignore bodily damage. "You are unhurt?" she checks.

Jon nods and further steps away, revealing the rest of the tent to her. The floor of the space is covered with rushes and well worn furs. Small fires burn in multiple corners and there are several tables set up in the middle of the space. On top of each table are huge maps and the kinds of oversized chess pieces that Maya knows are used to plan battles. A large, ornately carved, wooden desk with an equally impressive carved chair behind it sit along one wall.

In that chair resides King Stannis Baratheon who is looking out at Jon and Maya with an expression of slightly impatient bemusement. Davos has taken up his customary place at his King's right shoulder, hand still resting on the hilt of his sword. Maya begins to suspect that the action may simply be habit more than it is a preparation to use the weapon.

Maya dips her eyes as respectfully and demurely as possible and dips the most graceful curtsy she is capable of. "I beg your pardon Your Grace," she says calmly. "Neither I nor Lord Jon meant any disrespect. Today has been... rather trying."

"Rise Lady Mormont," King Stannis says. It's the kind of command that speaks of practiced authority. However, Maya spent much of her childhood in the household of a man who sat on a throne and possessed a crown. She knows what a tired King sounds like, and Stannis Baratheon is very close to being exhausted. "I understand you helped to deliver a babe today," he continues. "Tell me, were you successful?"

"The mother and the baby were both hail and hearty when I left them," Maya reports. "I cannot say that the danger is truly passed, but both survived the birth."

"More than can be said for some," Stannis muses.

Maya nods. "Indeed Your Grace."

With that her part as a crucial member in the conversation is essentially over. Stannis turns to Jon and begins to quiz him about the Wildlings, their armies, their plans, and the conditions at Castle Black. Ser Davos enters the occasional query or insight in to the dialogue and Maya stands quietly. She's almost numb with exhaustion after the day she's had but the part of the whole situation that rings most in her ears is that she's been dismissed. She was summoned and addressed as a courtesy and then relegated to the side. It irks her, and sets something crawling under her skin.

She knows that as far as being a high born girl in Westeros she has been in some ways remarkably lucky. She's been raised and educated well and brought up in a household wherein her opinion was generally listened to and considered when what she had to say was valuable. In return Maya knew her own spheres of knowledge and when her insight was useful. It was one of the few benefits of being raised in a wealthy House without technically being a part of it.

As Maya the healer she can essentially go where she likes, say what she thinks, and in many ways act freely. Being Lady Mormont is a very different story. Lady Mormont is, she is gathering, meant to sit quietly and listen enough to understand what is going on but not comment on it. When the time comes Maya imagines that Stannis will also ask her to pledge her support. Maya wonders somewhat bitterly how disappointed he might be when he finds out she's had no contact with her Northern family for almost a complete decade.

The conversation ends with Stannis' remaining questions satisfied and Jon having assured escort back to Castle Black.

Maya will say this for Stannis Baratheon, he keeps his word. All of his forces along with all those Wildling's left alive and kept as prisoners along with Jon and Maya are packed up and ready to leave before the sun has moved very far in the sky. Maya and Jon were given horses for which Maya is grateful though she wonders who is walking instead as she doesn't think Stannis' forces had the horses to spare. All things considered the trip back to the Wall is considerably faster than the walk to the camp had been that morning.

 _Gods, had it really only been that morning?_

Once they arrive back at Castle Black Maya slips away back to the quiet of her chambers for a few moments of wistful peace before slipping down to the hall for the quickest dinner she can manage. She doesn't leave the room again before dropping in to a deep, dreamless sleep. She has a feeling that the next morning will be busy.

She isn't disappointed.

Starting at dawn she and Maester Aemon are both inundated with a flood of Sworn Brothers, each suffering from a different variety of injury or malady. She does her best for each of them, even those who frown and scoff at her the rest of the time. The day quickly slides away form her and when evening finally comes she is glad that she has a reason to stay inside and out of the courtyard. She's heard all day through various whispers that Stannis plans to burn Mance Rayder alive for his rebellion. Maya has no desire to watch.

She's taking advantage of the emptiness inside the castle to make her way to the kitchens for fresh water uninterrupted and nearly runs in to Jon as he makes his way up the stairs. His long bow is in his hand and he doesn't speak as he strides past her. The expression of cold determination on his face is enough to make her forgo her water and spin on her heel to go after him.

"Jon?" she calls, questioningly. "Jon?"

He continues to move, giving no sign that he hears her voice until he reaches a ride window overlooking the courtyard. Jon stops and throws open the window forcing Maya to stop to. She follows the line of the arrow that Jon has knocked and gasps. The fire being used to murder the King Beyond the Wall is crackling with a sort of savage glee. Chocked screams of pain permeate the air over the hissing, popping flames.

Jon lets the arrow fly.

The screaming stops.

Maya turns back to Jon as he slowly lowers the bow. She takes a chance and places her hand on his drawing arm, urging his fingers to release the string. His eyes aren't exactly empty, or unfocused, but they don't exactly seem to be seeing her either.

She tries to put herself in to his perspective but it just doesn't work very well. No matter what battles she has ever helped with, what training she's been given, or how much blood she has seen pouring from the wounds of those she treats, she has never taken a life. She has never struck out with a weapon and stolen someone's future. She has never killed, even out of mercy.

"It was the right thing to do," Jon says hollowly. "I knew Mance had to die but not- Not like that. That was punishment, not justice."

He sounds exhausted and tired and so completely run down that Maya has no idea what to do or say. She glances back out at the courtyard and sees a number of blank, indistinct eyes turned from the flames to Jon as he still stands in the window. She's knows she's still hidden in shadow, but enough people have seen Jon to know that the arrow came from his bow. They needed to move.

She tightens her fingers around Jon's and gives a small tug. "Come on," she tells him. "We need to leave." Maya leads him to the kitchen and draws the water she was going to get in the first place. Jon retrieves a loaf of hard brown bread and offers her a large chunk of it.

They pick at the food in silence. Maya guesses Jon simply doesn't have the energy or motivation to speak. She doesn't tell him that the choice he made will have consequences that may be dire, doesn't say that he might have just made a powerful enemy in the form of King Stannis. He knows already. Voicing the thoughts out loud won't help. It's a bad situation, and picking it over with words won't fix it if there's no possible solution.

It's almost like a scab she thinks. It may not necessarily be beneficial to leave it alone, but picking it off would almost certainly make it bleed.

Time next day both Jon and Maya are called to speak with King Stannis. The King has overtaken the empty rooms set aside for the Lord Commander. The new one will be chosen later that night. As King Stannis looks imposingly out at them, Maya wonders idly which rooms the King will establish himself in once it's happened. Her presence at the meeting is a bit confusing to her. Stannis has already proved that he doesn't much care to include her in discussion.

She thinks she has her answer to the question of her presence when Stannis begins by telling Jon off for going against his orders. Maybe she hadn't been as hidden in shadows as she had thought. But, Stannis still doesn't address her as he explains to Jon that he had wanted the Wildlings to fight on his side. Jon states, quite accurately in Maya's opinion, that the Wildlings will never follow Stannis after he burned Mance Rayder alive.

That is when Stannis finally turns his attention to her. He holds out a scroll of parchment to her and says, "I suppose you know this girl Lyanna Mormont? She'll be a cousin of yours or some such relation?"

Maya frown but she does recognize the name. She had attended the celebration of the girl's birth. She had been seven years old at the time, and her family had left for Braavos barely six moons after Lyanna had been born. "I believe that Lyanna is the daughter of my Great Uncle," she replies evenly. Stannis seemed non to pleased with Lyanna whatever the letter contained.

"The Lord Commander's niece," Jon concludes.

Stannis gives a grunt of confirmation. "At the moment the Lady of Bear Island and a child of ten," he mutters. "I've asked her to commit her men to my cause that's her response."

Maya unrolls the curled piece of parchment and reads the words on the paper. The letters are slanted and untidy and Maya guesses that it must have been written in Lyanna's own hand. It hits her with a pang that holding this piece of paper is the closest she's been to anything relating to the House of her birth since her parents deserted her in Braavos. The message reads _Bear Island knows no King, but the King in the North, whose name is Stark._

The message is followed by the seal of the Mormonts, a rearing bear set in wax. _Here we stand,_ she thinks. _Unbowed. Unbent. Unbroken._

Jon reads the message out loud over her shoulder and their is a note of amused humor in his voice that Maya has rarely heard there before. Stannis' head shoots up. "That amuses you?" he snaps.

Jon controls his laughter and his smile is slowly swallowed, vanishing quietly in to the other lines of his face. Maya thinks it's a shame to see it go. Jon looks years younger when he smiles. "I'm sorry My Lord." He says it with respect but the humor is not completely gone from him yet. "Northerners can be a bit like the Free Folk," he continues. "Loyal to their own."

"I know," Stannis says resignedly. "Robert was always going on about how difficult it was to manage. Even with your father helping."

"Why show this message to us?" Maya asks. She knows it's a rude action for her to do something that could be seen as interrupting a king, but it doesn't seem like the question will be truly addressed if it is left to Stannis to get to answering it by himself. Jon backs up her inquiry which Maya suspects may be the reason her rudeness goes unaddressed and she is grateful for the intervention though irritated at it's necessity.

Stannis leans forward slightly across the desk when Jon states that everything he has is sworn to the Night's Watch. Maya looks down at the floor and tries not to frown or wince when he states that he has nothing left to give. "You can give me the North," Stannis says and Maya's head jerks up. He even meets her eyes. "Between the two of you it would work."

"I couldn't even if I wanted to," Jon protests. "I'm a Bastard. A Snow."

"Kneel before me," Stannis says simply. "Pledge me your sword and you shall rise again as Jon Stark. Lord of Winterfell."

Maya looks at Jon whose gaze is locked on Stannis in shock. She understands the feeling. She is not the one who may be legitimized as the ruler of an entire kingdom and even she feels as though the bottom has dropped out of her stomach. Maya has suffered many shocks in her lifetime but this offer of Stannis' is... _frankly incredible._ The King has offered Jon a new life, the perfect new life in exchange for something as ephemeral as loyalty. Proven, she is sure with swords with which to lay siege to the Lannisters.

"And me?" she asks quietly.

Stannis turns his pale eyes to her and Maya hopes that Jon uses the moment outside of his scrutiny to compose some sort of answer to the choice laid before him. "What about you?"

Maya shrugs. "Where do I fit in?" she asks. "You win back the North from the Boltons and Jon announces himself Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. Thus delivering to you the full might of all the Northern Houses with which to wage your war. You'd get the Starks, the Umbers, Manderlys and more. It is a good strategy. What purpose do I serve? You'd not have called me here and shown me this message," she holds up the paper she still holds in her hand. "If I was of no importance to you."

"You can bring me Bear Island," he says. "Ride North with my army. I'll send an escort to return you to your home and once there you can claim your legitimate birth right."

She shakes her head. "That is not enough," she states. "The Mormonts are strong but the House is small, and the island itself is no great well of resources. You'd get some good timber, maybe a hundred fighting men. Not enough to make any true difference." She takes a half a step forward. "And all due respect Your Grace," she says as courteously as possible. "But you have seen the result of what happens when families turn on each other instead of fighting together as one. I'll not go against Lyanna, no matter how little I know her."

Stannis shrugs as well, apparently unconcerned by her statement or her perception of his plans. "No matter. You may yet be able to convince your cousin to change her mind. You My Lady are heir to considerably more than Bear Island."

Maya frowns. "You are speaking of House Hightower?" she questions. "Perhaps they would follow me as their Lady though it's unlikely." This is a matter that Maya has actually considered before when debating which of her Northern family to seek out and investigate first. She had avoided her mother's house out of the assumption that no matter how loyal the bannermen were to House Hightower they'd not follow the daughter of a Northern traitor simply because she was also the sole remaining grandchild of their last great lord.

"Not quite My Lady," Stannis says politely.

Maya freezes and wonders where exactly the King means to take this particular discussion next. Jon interrupts the flow of the conversation at that moment, asking for time to consider the offer made to him and Maya uses the opportunity to slide quietly from the room when Jon leaves. Regardless of what will happen in the future it doesn't have to happen immediately.

By unspoken agreement they both stop at the same window from which they watched Mance Rayder burn. "What are you thinking of?" she asks quietly when they have both stood for long enough that she can no longer stand the silence pressing in at her ear drums.

"I don't know what to think," he replies honestly.

Maya lets out a long breath and it comes out shakier than she had expected it would. "Stannis offers you everything," she says quietly. "Everything."

"Maybe," Jon says. "But I don't think anyone can ever have everything. All my life I've wanted to be Jon Stark but-"

"Now that you might have it you are afraid," Maya guesses simply. "Maybe you are right to be. But Jon," she steps closer to him before she can check the movement and then it can't be taken back. "I dare say that you will not get the chance again."

Jon remains silent for a long moment before he speaks again. "What did Stannis mean when he said that you were heir to more Land than that of your fathers?" he asks suddenly. "I interrupted him and we left before you could answer but he was talking about lands and titles. The Northern Houses are loyal to House Stark I understand what he wants from me in exchange for what he offers. What does he want from you?"

Maya shakes her head. She doesn't truly know how to answer. "I don't know," she tells him truthfully. "My mother was Lady of Hightower, daughter of the lord of the House. My father won the right to marry her on a tournament day and my grandfather accepted the proposal. He and much of that portion of my family is dead now if reports are accurate. Fighting in the same war that claimed your brother I suppose."

"I'm sorry," Jon murmurs, and this time it's he who has to check a motion halfway through it's completion, his hand moving as though to take hers before dropping back to his side. He flexes it open and closed a few times as though trying to decide what to do with it instead. Maya makes the choice for him and extends a hand to twist her fingers with his.

"It is not your fault," she tells him. "Anyway, House Hightower might in theory follow me if there truly is no one else left in the family to do so. However, they also may not just as easily. I sought to perhaps go to Oldtown to see if any of the family remained when I came here from Dorne. I planned to make my way there after I had inquired after my father's family on Bear Island, I thought perhaps they would be kinder if there were any left."

Jon frowned as he so often did, the well practiced crease forming deep between his eyes. "But you ended up here," he states.

"I chose to come here," Maya corrects. "I did not have to help you Jon Snow. It was my own decision, one I would make again." She gestures around at the walls of the castle that stand solid and weathered around them. "I have done good things here I think, " she muses. "I will continue to do good things here until I either must leave, or choose to do so. My family cannot die again. Those who remain alive will be safe enough now that the War of Five Kings is over. Bear Island and Old Town cannot move."

"So you'll not go with Stannis North and on to Bear Island?" he asks.

Maya bights her lip. "I do not yet know," she says. "He offers protection on the journey which may be worthwhile, though the price he asks for it is rather high. I will never attempt to take Bear Island from Lyanna by claiming it for myself. It as much hers by rights as mine after my father was exiled." She releases his hand and steps back from him in to the hallway. "You ought to go and find Sam," she tells him. "Tell him of all of this. I think he will council you better than any other might."

There is nearly half a hallway between them before Jon calls out. "Maya," he calls. He uses her first name and it is enough to make her stop and turn back to him. "If- If you do go to Winterfell, write to me. Just, tell me that it is still left standing."

She faces him fully and allows a small smile. "If I go," she speaks, stretching the if. "I shall tell you about each brick in the wall if it will help." She doesn't specify help with what. Jon spends so much of his time acting as a fully grown man, carrying a man's burdens, worries, and pains. However, underneath all of that he is a young man of perhaps twenty years who has lost the entire family of his birth, is disliked by half of the family of his choice, and has never truly felt a sense of belonging in either.

Her promise made she once again turns to leave and this time he doesn't stop her.

That night the vote is made for the next Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. Maya avoids the entire process and keeps herself away. Her presence in the room while the men of the Watch choose sides behind which to assign their loyalty will not help matters for anyone, especially if Ser Allister wins which Maya assumes he will. The former knight dislikes her entire presence and the longer Maya can go without putting herself in his path the better. She hopes, perhaps naively, that if Allister forgets that she exists, he will forget to force her from Castle Black until she has weighed her options in leaving.

Then Jon wins and Maya feels frozen. For much of her life Maya has been able to plan ahead and guess what she should do next. She used to assume that she could sometimes predict the actions of others. This though, Jon becoming Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, it throws her for a complete and utter loop. Maya doesn't know how to react. She knows that from an objective standpoint this benefits her. It could be assumed that this makes her safe. However, it could also in theory make her a target for all those within the watch who voted for Ser Allister.

It also means that Jon can never leave. Not now.

Not that he ever could, but this feels somehow more permanent and binding. Maya absolutely refuses to examine how that makes her feel. She can feel something growing, twisting around her heart and one of the few things she knows with absolute certainty is that whatever that feeling is it can not be permitted to stay. It needs to be tied up inside a little box and packed away in a dark corner if she can manage it.

She can not afford for her life to be any more complicated.

One of the first things Jon does as Lord Commander is ask her if she would like for him to send an escort of brothers to take her safely to Bear Island. She refuses and tells him that if he plans to infuriate even more people within the Watch he must do it over something more important. It turns out to be a good decision, as the next major decision that Jon makes results in Ser Allister becoming First Ranger and Jon having to execute Janos Slynt. With that a whole other selection of possible friends and supporters is likely lost to Jon for good.

The rest of the possible support Jon may have falls away quickly when he makes his alliance with the Wildlings. Maya feels helpless. It feels as though pieces of the safe island she has built are dropping away in chunks beneath her feet. She counsels Jon to do what he believes he must and hopes desperately that what Jon feels he must do does not result in his death.

And hers come to think of it.

She spends spare time with Princess Shireen and the two of them together work on teaching Gilly to read. They have better luck than Sam did but Maya suspects that Sam does not know quite how to teach something that comes to him so easily. Maya also does her best to occupy Olly so that he stays away from Allister and his group. She can somewhat understand the boys anger, but she is also wary. She knows that anger in a young boy can be incredibly dangerous.

Shireen spends much of her time following along behind Maya when the two of them are not teaching Gilly to read. The little girl peers at her herbal mixes and watches her take inventory, even trying to help in her own small ways. Maya enjoys her presence and entertains Shireen's questions. She has a lively mind and Maya enjoys having more and more people to talk to.

Ghost has become her other constant shadow. Since Jon was chosen to lead the Night's Watch Ghost has been set free to wander as he likes and where he likes is apparently her side when he is not out hunting. The huge white wolf pads along silently next to her leaving large tracks behind in the driven snow. Every once in a while he nuzzles at her fingers and Maya rubs the soft fur of his neck and behind his ears. It is something of a double edged sword. No one tries to bother her when Ghost is with her, but the Direwolf has taken to bearing his teeth when certain people approach her and waiting outside of doorways for her to come out if he can't fit through them. She is left alone, but she can no longer pass without being noticed either.

Maya sees Jon smile once when he notices Ghost's new habit but denies involvement when she asks him if it is his doing.

When Jon resolves that he will in fact go to Hard Home with Tormund she decides that it's time to leave. Half of the Watch dislikes her simply because they dislike Jon and she arrived at the Watch with him. Hate by association is a powerful thing. The older members of the Watch don't trust her presence simply because she's the only female to take up a semipermanent residence within the walls of Castle Black. With Jon in the Castle as Lord Commander and with Ghost following her, none of them try anything. However, Maya is smart enough to know that the moment Jon leaves it will be a very different story.

She tells Stannis that she's taking him up on his offer of traveling with him to Winterfell and a later escort back to Bear Island. Jon accepts the news with a resigned expression but says nothing to discourage her. Instead he simply wishes her safe travels and says the traditional wish between two travelers that they will meet again. Maya parrots it back to him and tries not too notice the sharp twist in her chest or how hollow the words feel.

The only one who is truly, innocently pleased by the turn of events is the Princess Shireen who bounces up and down on the balls of her feet with excitement and squeezes Maya in to a tight hug. The girl is still a child and yet is very nearly the same height as her. Maya hugs her back and over the top of Shireen's head catches two people watching the interaction. Shire en's mother is glaring at the whole exchange with an expression akin to a woman who had just been told to pick up a handful of centipedes while sucking on a particularly unpleasant lemon. The other watcher is the Red Woman Melissandre who is watching the exchange with a small self-satisfied smile as though everything is all going perfectly according to her plan.

Maya can't decide which of the two reactions is more frightening.

The journey from Castle Black to Winterfell could best be described as awkward. Maya can't deny that a part of her enjoys being out on the road. Moving in a direction, any direction feels better than simply sitting still. After all, spending time with her Northern family was the reason she left Dorne in the first place. Besides the dangers of the road can be more easily seen and defeated than the political machinations stirring and bubbling within Castle Black.

She spends most of her time with Shireen. She suspects that Davos is the one to arrange for the proximity and Maya finds that she doesn't actually mind. The former smuggler treats Shireen like his own daughter and Maya knows that the Princess has been lonely for an incredibly large portion of her life. Davos is trying to help heal that wound and Maya is a healer, no matter the method or capacity that that healing takes.

Shireen loves stories and books and has gone through every one that she owns. Maya tells her stories and fairytales that she learned in Bravos and Dorne and even teaches Shireen a small selection of Dornish and Valyrian words and letters. Shireen is a quick study and learns the letters and vocabulary seemingly as quickly as Maya can present it to her.

King Stannis and his Queen ignore the both of them with a completeness that is both freeing and irritating. Davos stops in on the two of them regularly and brings small sweets and little gifts to Shireen. In return the little girl gives the former smuggler reading lessons. Shireen looks up at Maya with serious eyes and swears her to secrecy about the lessons. Maya swears readily and gives Davos a small smile when he arrives.

Davos himself, though initially unsure of her constant presence near Shireen acclimates to the idea within a few days when he seems to judge for himself that Maya means the Princess no harm. Once while boiling water for bandages she burns her hand and curses rather colorfully in Dornish. Her swears interrupt Davos in his reading with Shireen and both look up at her.

"What does that mean?" Shireen asks curiously.

"Nothing that a Princess will ever need to say," Maya tells her evenly moving quickly to the entrance to the tent to retrieve snow to wrap in a clothe and place against her burn. "Though if you really want to know in a few years time send me a raven and I promise that I will tell you." Shireen nods and Maya assumes that the promise of eventual answers must be enough to sate the girls curiosity for the time being.

She turns from the entrance of the tent to find Davos looking at her with a frown. "What language was that?" he inquiries.

Maya regards him for a long moment before she answers. "Dornish," she replies. "You may have heard I grew up with a Dornish family. I had an elder brother who tutored me to master what he called the basics. Plenty of curses I assure you."

"But you speak another language?" Davos continues. "You can read it and write it?"

"Some," Maya tells him. "I can read it well enough and write out a response so long as I've time to do it properly, and even then the grammar would likely be lacking though my meaning would come across. If it's spoken to me I can understand much though replying out loud is entirely different."

Shireen chooses that moment to pipe in. "She speaks Valyrian to Ser Davos. She tells me stories and rhymes in it."

Maya gives Shireen a small smile before turning back to Davos whose eyes have widened considerably. "I haven't truly heard, used or spoken Valyrian in quite some time. I know the songs and rhymes but carrying out a conversation would be almost certainly beyond what I could manage. A few passing words and phrases maybe. Far fewer in High Valyrian than in Lower."

That simple conversation is, as far as she can tell, the only prompting necessary for her to begin teaching scraps of both foreign languages she knows to Davos as well as Shireen.

All in all the trip itself passes rather well, and fairly uneventfully. The troubles only begin when they are forced to stop moving. The snow falls thick and fast and Maya knows enough about snow and the Northern roads to know that if they do not move soon they will no longer have the option. Many of the other officers among Stannis' army know it to if the pinched and drawn expressions they go about with are any indicator.

The cold is enough to rattle her teeth and bones and it becomes impossible to go outside without any exposed skin turning red from cold and stinging snow. Maya attempted taking a brief walk outside and is forced back inside moments later with her hair and eyelashes coated in white crystals that melt and cause cold water to leak and drip from her hair down her neck and back. It's an entirely unpleasant experience and Maya takes the lesson for what it is and stays inside.

The night of the worst snow storm yet catastrophe strikes. At least, it's catastrophic to Stannis and his attempts to march on Winterfell which makes it a catastrophe for Maya and her ultimate plans to reach Bear Island and her cousin Lyanna. The Boltons strike at night and destroy many of the food reserves and murder horses. A huge portion of the Baratheon forces deserts immediately afterwards. It's a tactically brilliant move, and that brilliance doesn't make it any less of a brutal setback. In fact, the blow is almost sharper in it's utter simplicity.

Late in the day after the attack Maya presents herself outside of King Stannis' tent. The guards posted there eye here warily and Maya nods to each of them respectfully, attempting to master her nerves before deciding that there's nothing else for it and tapping just hard enough to make an audible noise on the tent post. A voice from inside calls for her to enter and Maya takes a breath before pushing through the tent flap. After all, it's not everyday she attempts to strong arm a king.

When she enters she finds that Ser Davos has beaten her to it. The grey haired man looks as though he had just been talking animatedly and was interrupted in the middle of speaking by her knock. Stannis looks at her with tired, angry eyes and Maya can see from his expression that whatever Davos had been saying had not been to the liking of his king.

Maya drops a courtesy. "Your Majesty," she says, nodding to the king. "Lord Seaworth. I've come to inquire as to the current state of affairs. I was wondering if I might take leave of your party and ride for Bear Island on my own horse. As you doubtless know there is very little that I might do to assist in a military campaign."

Stannis sighs. "And how do you plan to cross the leagues from here to Bear Island on your own and unescorted in storms such as the ones that have been plaguing us lately?" he asks. It's a fair question and Maya knows that the answer she gives is important.

"Lord Commander Snow of the Night's Watch promised me an escort as well I'll take him up on his offer if I must," she replies. She has no doubt that Jon would do as he had once offered if she asked it of him. However, she does hope she will not need to ask. "However," she says, continuing to explain her plan. "I accomplished the journey from Eastwatch by the Sea on my own. I can travel the leagues from here to Bear Island alone as well if need be."

Stannis takes his sturdy wooden seat within the tent behind his desk. "I fear I simply cannot allow Lady Maya Mormont Princess of Dorne and heir to House Hightower to travel unescorted if your father is ever to show me his support," he states calmly.

"I'm-" Maya tries, feeling stunned, her tongue heavy and clumsy. "I'm, not a princess Your Grace. The Martell family did show me great kindness and care it is true, but no official decree or adoption was ever made."

Stannis hums noncommittally and digs in to a locked drawer of papers before extracting a piece of thick, expensive looking piece of parchment sealed with both the royal crest and the seal of House Martell. "This is a royal decree sent to me by the Grand Maester of Dorne properly witnessed and signed both by the Crown Prince Doran of Dorne and by my royal brother King Robert Baratheon legitimately claiming you as the daughter of Crown Prince Doran and in your own turn Princess of Dorne."

By the time he has finished speaking Maya has been rendered utterly speechless with shock. She can tell that her eyes are wide and that her jaw is likely hanging towards the floor but can't seem to find it within herself to do anything about it. Her eyes are fixed on the parchment in Stannis' hand and she takes it with numb fingers, scanning the text to the bottom of the page.

There it is, written in stark black ink at the bottom of the page. The first signature is the familiar, careful signature of Doran Martell. He always signed his name carefully and slowly to avoid the ink smudging from his occasionally shaky fingers. Next to it is a looping, careless, absentminded, scrawl that Maya can just make out reads Robert Baratheon. The former king's signature appears to her much like an after thought. Sure this little adopted Northern girl can be your daughter. What did the King of the Seven Kingdoms care about a new princess on the nearly the other side of the world?

The paper is dated nearly three years ago, just before her fourteenth name day.

"He never told me," Maya said, her own voice sounding strange in her head. There is a strange ringing reverberating through her ears. With one piece of paper and two signatures her entire life is altered, shifted sideways on it's axis away from everything she had ever thought was true about her position in the world. _Gods,_ _she was still trying to work out how exactly to be a Northern Lady._ Being a Southern Princess was nearly inconceivable.

Stannis seems not to care that he has just altered the very fabric of her existence with his words. "No matter at the moment," he says. "I've given Ser Davos permission to return to Castle Black to ask for the aid of the Night's Watch for food to feed the army and repair the supplies we lost in last night's attack. You shall accompany him back to the castle and retrieve your guard from amongst the brothers. Once that's done you'll return here where you'll be joined by some of my soldiers before you continue on to Bear Island."

Maya recognizes that this is both a dismissal and the best and only option she will receive and so dips another curtesy and turns to leave. Davos follows her out and helps her saddle her horse and prepare to leave after they've both said their goodbyes to the Princess Shireen. Davos gives her the gift of a carved wooden stag before leaving and Maya follows after a hug and the promise that she will see Shireen again to finish the story she's been telling the younger girl.

She and Davos make considerably better time on the ride back to Castle Black than the Baratheon army had made on it's journey towards Winterfell. It helps that they can now gallop and are not bogged down by any more possessions than what they possess between the two of them. The heaviest thing between them is the trunk that Maya had carried from Dorne. It isn't until they've stopped for the day that Maya realizes Doran's royal decree naming her his daughter is still in the pocket of her thick traveling cloak. She smooths out the parchment and packs it in to the bottom of her trunk until she can work out what should be done.

She realizes heavily that she has said that about more and more things in her life lately. The pile of issues that she has set aside to be worked out later seems to only grow and grow by the day. Maya has never been an indecisive person before and the idea that she may be becoming one now does not sit well with her at all.

They arrive at the gates of Castle Black in just under a week, less than half the time it had taken to go the other direction with the Baratheon Army. Perhaps it is not soon enough though as Maya is disappointed to learn that Jon has permitted Sam leave to become a Maester, and that he, Gilly, and Baby Sam have already departed. She thinks that Sam, with all of his knowledge of books and law might be able to advise her on what Doran's legal documents truly mean. Besides, she would have liked to say a better goodbye.

Jon greets her warmly enough and all but lifts her off of her horse and down to the ground when they arrive. His gloved hands are a warm pressure against her ribs for a moment and he responds to her small smile with one of his own. However, he checks his reactions when he sees that Davos is her chaperone, becoming guarded in the space of a moment. Maya is beginning to realize that Jon has crafted a mask for political dealings, perhaps modeled after his own father. It is a blank, serious, though difficult to read face and it slides in to place piece by piece as Davos disembarks and makes his way forward.

He calls Edd forward and asks that he find Maya somewhere warm to sit and some food before consenting to Davos' persistent request to speak to him on an urgent matter. Maya is so cold from the brisk ride that she goes without protest. Her teeth are shivering so badly she doesn't think she would be able to form a request to be included in the conversation even if she particularly wanted to see it. She doesn't though. This will be one argument that she knows will not end happily.

She drinks a bowl of broth before the fire in the hall that Edd brings to her. It is thin but hot and tastes plenty good after having not eaten all day prior. The Hall is empty as it is the middle of the day and the sworn brothers are all out practicing drills. She asks Edd to sit with her for company and the Dolorous brother agrees easily sitting on a low wooden bench across from her.

Between sips of broth she manages to get him to tell her of the Battle at Hard Home. She guesses that he will be more forthcoming with details than Jon might be and she isn't disappointed. Dolorous Edd may be but Jon was stoic and silent by nature. Edd, once he has begun talking, speaks freely. He reports simple fact and almost nothing else, but fact is truly all that Maya wants. In her opinion, battles can be embellished and extolled upon in songs. In real life fact is best.

The tale is gruesome and frightening to be sure and by the time it is finished Maya has shivered more than once from something completely other than the temperature. When it is done Edd excuses himself, saying that he has work to do about the Castle and Maya thanks him and bids him farewell. She stays by the fire for another few moments to allow the heat to sink in to her bones and then rises and makes her way to Maester Aemon's former chambers.

She grieves his death quietly and by herself as she stands in his room surrounded by the few material possessions that the man saw fit to keep. Many of them are books. Thick volumes on all manner of subjects, bound in worn leather with crinkled though well preserved pages. There are gaps where volumes used to stand and Maya assumes that Sam must have taken them with him to begin his new life of study.

Maya herself takes careful stock of Aemon's carefully labeled collection of herbs and begins the somber task of re-catalogueing them and replenishing her own stock. She hates the idea that she s taking from a dead man, but many of the herbs used in healing tended to spoil and expire like most others if not used and many others were difficult to resupply even in high summer. This was no Summer that they were in now.

A sudden clamor from the courtyard breaks through her work and Maya steps outside to view the courtyard from above as the gate lifts and Melissandre enters on horseback wearing her customary red. She sees Davos make his ay to the Red Woman but the exchange must not go well because it is incredibly brief. Maya can hear Davos ask for news, particularly of Shireen but never hears Melissandre answer and moments later Davos steps aside to let the woman pass.

Maya returns to the Maester's chambers and finishes the work she had begun. It takes perhaps an hour or more before there is nothing else left for her to do and she returns to the bottom floor of the Castle. By the time she ventures back in to the courtyard night had just begun to fall along with a fresh flurry of snow.

While outside she encounters Tormund who is quick to relay the more grizzly details of the Battle of Hard Home to her. The bearded Wildling man spares her nothing and gives more than one account of Jon's bravery and spectacular actions with Longclaw. Maya nods along and prompts gently when his flow of words begins to slow and in doing so gathers a complete second account of the battle.

"I suppose I had best see Jon myself soon," Maya says.

When she does it's more speaking her thoughts aloud than it is actual conversation though Tormund seems not to see it that way. "Aye!' he says. "I doubt anything'd put a smile on that boy's pretty face but in m'opinion theres many a thing a woman can do as others can't." His face is light with salacious joy at his own bawdy humor at her expense.

Maya flushes a bit despite her best efforts but ignores the implications of his words even as her ears warm. Instead of trying to craft any sort of reply to his joke, Maya bids Tormund goodnight and begins to make her way to the staircase that leads up to the Lord Commander's private chambers. "Yes Girl," Tormund chuckles behind her. "Be on your way Queen Crow!"

Maya turns from a few steps above him to glare down at the man but his laughter only increases in volume at her attempt and Maya spins back around and stomps up the stairs. She is irritated and not a little embarrassed but the feelings strike her in a familiar way. Trystane had teased her often and sometimes mercilessly in the same manner. It was the way in which elder brothers teased younger sisters for their own amusement when they found that it suited them.

She reaches Jon's door and knocks gently with one fist.

"Yes?" is Jon's low invitation from inside and Maya slips in, shutting the door quietly behind her. Jon seems to be interrupted in the middle of pacing back and forth across the room and is paused in mid-step. He deflates visibly when he sees that it is her and Maya can see his shoulders drop in relief. "Maya," he breathes, moving to her and taking one of her hands in both of his. "Gods, I'm glad that you are alright."

"I've heard what happened in Hard Home," she tells him, moving her other hand so that it rests over his. "If the Gods, old or new were watching either of us it seems they were quite rightfully watching more carefully over you."

Jon moves back but keeps hold of her hands for another few moments as he leads her to the chair before his desk and moves around the table to take his own seat. "I knew someone'd tell you," he says, seeming both relieved and resigned in equal measure. "Who was it?"

"Edd," she replies. "And Tormund. The former was rather dry as you might expect and the latter was rather graphic, again as you would think. I suspect the truth of things lies somewhere in the middle."

He nods. "That is likely." With a sigh he sits back in his chair and asks with resignation, "Is there anything you wish to know?"

Maya leans forward, leaning her elbows against the edge of the desk in a way that would have appalled her Septa. "Just this," she begins. "Longclaw. Both Edd and Tormund have said that you used it to kill one of the White Walkers. Have you any idea why it worked?"

"Sam thinks that it has something to do with Valyrian Steel," Jon replies. His words seem to come easily and Maya guesses that he is grateful that she does not press for details about the massacre. "He's gone to the Citadel to find the other volumes on the substance. He thinks there may be some important secret in how the metal is forged. If he can find it and we learn how to replicate it then-"

"-Then we would have a working supply of weapons to use in the wars to come," Maya finishes, completing his thought for him. It's incredibly reassuring in some ways. It's not a perfect plan, not by a long shot. Merely pinning their hopes on rediscovering a forging method lost for a thousand years is in no way ideal. However it is a plan, and any plan is considerably better than what they had before.

After that the talk turns to Maya's journey towards Winterfell with the Baratheon army. Much as Maya had wanted to hear of Hard Home from multiple sources Jon wants to hear Maya's account in addition to Davos'. Maya has the sneaking suspicion that her tale is rather boring but Jon fastens on to, and examines every detail she can provide. It is a good feeling to talk together and slowly they begin to trade hesitant questions on other subjects.

They trade pieces of information about Dorne and Winterfell and details about their families. Jon speaks haltingly of noble Robb, Wild Arya, Proud Sansa, Rickon the baby who loved honeyed cakes, and Bran who loved to climb. In turn Maya tells of the fiersome Sandsnakes, and of Trystane who protected her fiercely always. Eventually they lapse in to a comfortable silence and she has just begun to say "Stannis told me something just before we left about-"

They are interrupted by a knock on the door and they spring apart as Olly comes sprinting through the door. The sudden distance between them after having moved gradually close together while speaking surprises her. Jon seems to share the feeling as well by the jarred look that flits behind his eyes as they momentarily lock on hers. Then his attention spins away as he hears that Olly may have found a Wildling with news about his Uncle Benjen.

The news understandably sends Jon hurtling to his feet and he prepares to race after Olly before glancing back at her. "I'm sorry to leave you in this way My Lady," he says in a rush. "I know that you were about to tell me something-"

"Go!" Maya urges. "Go! Family is scarce these days for both of us. Go to Olly and learn of your Uncle."

Jon sends her a quick, hectic smile, kissing the tips of her fingers seemingly without thinking about it before he sprints for the door. He tosses a look back over his shoulder to her and it is the most unguardedly hopeful she has ever seen him. "Wait for me?" he asks. "We'll speak when I return?" There's a note of questioning in his voice as though he thinks it may be too much for him to hope for and Maya nods her agreement. With that he goes and Maya can't help but smile after him.

It may be foolish but she does as Jon had bid and waits for him. She adds wood to the fire and then returns to her vacated chair, pulling her feet up in to her seat.

Then she waits...

 **A/N: So? What did you guys think? I hope you liked the chapter but I'm a little unsure so I'm open to suggestions if you've got them. I plan to write the next installment as this story's version of season six so it might take a little longer to write because I want to get the details as right as I can now that I'm basically following the plot line of the show. I'm interested to see how Maya and Sansa play together in my head! Review for me! xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxooxoxoxoxoxoxooxooxxoxoxoxoxooxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxooxoxoxoxoxoxxoxoxooxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxxoxoxoxoxoxoxox**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Nope**

From somewhere outside Maya can hear howling as she waits in Jon's empty office. She isn't sure weather the howl belongs to Ghost or to some wild wolf thats wondered closer to the wall in hopes of finding food. The fire crackles as it begins to burn low in the grate and Maya judges that nearly an hour must have passed since Jon ran from the room to follow Olly for news of his Uncle Benjen.

Perhaps another quarter of an hour passes before Maya decides she ought to fetch a log or two to keep the fire going. Besides, she needs to get some fresh air and move around a little if she wants to stay awake until Jon return.

The howl of the owl grows louder the closer she gets to the courtyard and seems to double in intensity when she steps outside. The sound raises the hairs on the back of her neck and sends shivers over her skin like trickles of cold water. The sound is hollow, desolate, and has an almost heartbreaking quality to it. This time she knows deep in her bones that the wolf is Ghost.

Then she sees the short white hair and round head atop the stout form that makes Davos Seaworth crouched in the far corner, leaning over a sprawled out form. Maya can't see well from her position across the courtyard but a sudden, sickening dread wells up in her stomach. _No._ She thinks. _No it can't be... It just can't..._

She tries to ruch forward but she feels like the air around her has morphed in to quick sand. It is like running in a nightmare, going frantically towards a goal but knowing already that you will not reach it in time. She can hear the crunch of snow beneath her every footfall and it's almost drowned out by the pounding of her own heart beating in her ears.

Maya skids to a halt beside Davos and he turns to look up at her. His eyes are sad, his face deathly pale apart from his nose and ears which have been bitten red by the wind and cold. He only meets her eyes for a short moment before he turns back to the body on the ground.

That turn of his gaze proves to be Maya's undoing as she feels impossibly forced to follow the line of his gaze. She doesn't want to look, doesn't want to have confirmed what she began to dread the moment she heard Ghost howl and saw Davos in this corner, but in the end she has to, and once she has she finds she can't look away. Gods she wants to look away.

Because of course Jon's is the body sprawled out on the trampled snow. His arm and legs are flung out around him. His hands are empty and Longclaw is still sheathed at his side. There are great rents in his clothing and the dark fabric is sickly sticky and wet with blood, though the liquid's color has been absorbed by the material. The true bloody scarlet permeates the white snow, staining it dark, and terrible.

The worst sight by far is Jon's face.

His skin is so pale it appears almost blue, like fresh milk. The cut on his temple from the massacre at Hard Home stands in stark relief. The bruises from that same attack show a horrifying purple. The dark curls of his hair (the color and texture Jon once told him marked him truly as a Stark) are crumpled and matted around his head, casting thin shadows on the snow. His mouth is slightly parted, the lips blue, as though he still feels the pain and surprise of his death. The dark brown of his eyes is glassy and empty as the orbs stare unseeingly at the flat black sky.

Above Jon's body, a sign reading TRAITOR glares down.

Ghost still howls in to the night air and the mournful, chilling noise is beginning to attract more attention. A group of brothers led by Dolorous Ed files out in to the courtyard and rushes to her and Davos where they stand over Jon's body. Recognition of exactly whose body it is laid out on the ground spreads outwards like the ripples caused by dropping a stone in to water. Shocked whispers of, "it's the Lord Commander!" echo around like a breeze.

Maya can't speak. She feels frozen, as though all of the blood in her veins has been turned to ice. In the back of her mind she wonders if this is how the Whites feel. This empty, dreadful, coldness...

Davos has stepped in quickly and gotten the men to help move Jon's body inside while Maya is trying to force her brain to understand that Jon, Jon who had always seemed as solid as the anchor of a ship, was dead. She can't seem to do it. Maya understands death well. Not everyone she had ever attempted to heal had been savable. She has attended battles and seen plenty of men die from blood loss and stab wounds.

But this is _Jon._

Maya unfreezes in time to help swipe several papers, quills, and pots of ink off of Jon's great wooden desk so that his body could be laid down across it. Ed reaches out and rubs his fingers across one of the dark wet spots on Jon's leather gears. His fingertips come away stained with deep red blood. His jaw is tight, his eyes angry and sad. "Thorne did this," he hisses.

Maya nods numbly. Her vision has gone fuzzy and blurred and she blinks repeatedly. Hot liquid drips down her cheeks and along her nose, and small shining drops shine at the edges of her vision in the fringe of her lashes. It catches up with her a moment later that she is crying. Maya brings up her hands and pushes the heels of her hands against her eyes as though she can possibly push back the tears. It doesn't work, and Maya soon gives up, allowing her tears to flow across her face unchecked for as long as they last.

What Ed says she knows without doubt is true. Other brothers were angry with Jon's choice to allow the Wildlings to cross the wall, but only Thorne had been murderous. Thorne lost the most when Jon became Lord Commander instead of him, and to his mind Jon's actions would have seemed a mockery of everything he had sworn to protect.

"There are too many stab wounds here for one blade," Maya says hollowly, voicing the thought that had formed in her head when she first saw the differently sized rents in Jon's clothing. "More than one knife," she continues. "That means more than one person is responsible. I agree whatever happened Thorne likely caused, but he did not do so alone."

The words ring heavily in the room but no one contradicts her. Davos shifts forward. "How many of your Brothers do you think you can trust?" he asks Ed.

"Trust," Ed echoes back, glancing around at the faces assembled in the room. His breathing is strained, harsh and audible, but he answers Davos' question clearly and definitively with little hesitation. "The men in this room," he proclaims.

"Does the wolf know you?" Davos continue doggedly. At the questioning glances the inquiry gains him he clarifies his meaning when he says, "We need all the help we can get."

Maya notices that he uses "we" not "you" and is hugely thankful that the man has decided to involve himself on their side in this rent in the Watch. She herself knows that her fate at Castle Black has been tied to Jon's since she first arrived with him before the Wildlings ever lay siege to the wall with Mance Rayder. With him dead and Thorne in Command, she doesn't stand a chance.

She swears in that moment that she will see justice done. This murder will not stand. The man who killed Jon, her friend, her protector, her safe port, the one man she had grown to trust and rely on would pay.

A knock at the door followed by Melissandre's voice requesting Ser Davos prompts the drawing of every sword in the room and suitably stamps out their discussions of trust and allies. Ed opens the heavy door with a great creak at a sign from Davos and the Red Woman enters, stepping forward to examine Jon's prone form. "I saw him in the flames," she says in a hushed voice. "Fighting at Winterfell." The woman is staring at Jon as though she can't believe her eyes and Maya fights back the urge to sob.

She wants to sob because Jon is dead and this woman is confused because that doesn't fit in to what she believes will be the future. The thing is, this doesn't fit with the quiet dreams that Maya had held a glimmer of foolish hope for either. No matter what she pictured of her future, Jon was always reachable and close. He was never dead, his body burned and the ashes released to the wind.

"I can't speak for the flames," Davos says somberly. "But he's gone."

It's a hard truth and Maya tries to swallow it but all she can feel is a sensation a bit like chocking.

None of the people in the room lead to attend the meeting that Thorne calls. In fact the only foray made is one that Maya and Ed go on to retrieve Ghost. Maya doesn't want to leave the room, but Ghost knows her best of all the others with Sam gone. The wolf comes to her willingly, butting his head against her rib cage and making small whimpering noises. That and the howling of the night before are the only noises Maya has ever truly heard Ghost make. She wonders what will happen to him now that Jon is dead and thinks that maybe she will bring him with her wherever she goes next.

When they reach the room again Maya pulls up a chair near Jon's head and Ghost nuzzles one of Jon's cold hands where it hangs of the table, still whimpering softly before the wolf lays himself out across Maya's feet below the table. Davos is attempting to talk Ed through what will be going on in the castle around them, saying that Thorne will have officially taken command. Ed proclaims that he doesn't care because the fuckers butchered his friend. Maya has never liked him more.

Davos then tries to talk Ed out of going to his death in a pointless fight. He says he doesn't think it's what Jon would have wanted and Maya agrees that it's probably true. However, she also remembers Jon punching at a solid stone wall at the news that his brother Robb was murdered and his fervent wishes that he could have fought for his family.

"If you were planning to see tomorrow you've picked the wrong room," Ed spits. "We all die today. I say we do our best to take Thorne with us when we go."

"We need to fight," Davos concedes. "But we don't need to die. Not if we have help."

The words sound like the beginnings of a plan and Maya turns her head slightly to hear what the former smuggler has thought of. When asked who would help them Davos says simply that those in the room are not the only ones who owe their lives to Jon Snow. "Wildlings," Maya breathes as the realization clicks in to place. She watches the light flick on in Ed's eyes as he realizes as well and makes for the door, leaving orders to bolt it behind him and not to let anyone in.

So they wait in silence for a very long time. The brothers check their weapons and equipment to keep themselves busy and Maya wonders from time to time if she ought to be making some sort of attempt to see to Jon's body. Clean it perhaps? Ghost stays still and sometimes lifts his head to rest it in her lap. When this happens Maya rubs her fingers through the fur behind his ears.

Thorne attempts more than once to get them to come out. His final attempt comes at nearly nightfall that evening as he talks through the door. He promises that the men inside can rejoin their brothers. He promises that Ghost will be set free and that Davos and Maya can leave unharmed. He promises that no one needs to die. He lies, and all of them inside the room know it.

"I've never been much of a fighter," Davos states. He picks up a sword and Maya thinks that he is wrong. There are different kinds of fighter, and Davos has survived this long despite all odds. Maya stands and retrieves a dagger that Jon keeps in the drawer of his desk and hold it ready. She is a fighter to.

Davos unsheathes the blade. "I'm sorry for what you're about to see," he says. The sworn brothers draw out their own weapons at his cue. Their blades gleam and the light from the fire and candles dances off of the wickedly sharp metal. Their faces are set and ready and Maya knows that this will be a fight to the death. Ghost places himself between the door and Jon's body and bears his teeth in a snarl, the hair along his spine standing on end.

The great thumping sound of a sharp blade sounds and reverberates through the door and along the wall. Maya realizes that the men outside are attempting to hack through the wood. She frantically wonders how long the wood will hold for. In her heart she knows that however long it is, it won't be long enough unless Ed miraculously arrives with help.

It seems that they are in fact, entitled to one miracle because that is exactly what happens. Ed arrives at the very last second with a full army of Wildlings complete with one extremely large, very angry, giant. For a few moments the sound of utter chaos and fighting leaks through in to the room, then there is silence. Davos creeps out to look down in tot he courtyard and Maya moves to look over his shoulder.

Thorne attempts to break free of his captors but Ed and Tormund shut him down quickly. Ed orders that Thorne and all of his men be placed in the cells below the castle. Maya retreats back inside and Tormund follows her in not long after. He looks at Jon with grim sadness and at Maya with sympathy. "Took a lot of knives," he observes of Jon's body. "I've men in the woods collecting for a fire. The body should burn." With that he leaves again but Maya, Ed, and Davos remain.

Maya thinks later that she has absolutely know idea what truly drives Melissandre to try to resurrect Jon. All she knows is that the Red Woman ultimately decides to try. She looks at Maya with imperious eyes. "You will help me in this child," she demands, and Maya nods.

"What help will I be?" she asks. "I know nothing that could return a man to life."

Melissandre throws back her head imperiously. "You are a healer," she states. "You know the working of a body. Jon Snow died of blood loss once because his heart could not stop pumping the blood when it had no where to go. If his heart suddenly begins again while the king is still open the same thing may happen again. You must seal the cuts if we've any chance at resurrection."

So they work. Together Maya and Melissandre peel the blood soaked clothing from Jon's skin. It sticks were the blood has dried to him and the cloth but eventually coms away. They scrub the blood from his body until the cuts in his chest appear like clearly drawn lines. Maya treats the cuts and stitches them shut as they become clearly visible. The skin has a different texture to living skin. It feels tougher to pierce with her needle, not wanting to stretch or cooperate with her stitches.

Eventually the job is done and Maya steps back to allow the Red Woman to work her ritual. She snips Jon's hair and does her ritual. She chants in a language that Maya cannot recognize for what seems like hours and Maya looses track of time. Only one thought permeates her mind. Whatever Melissandre is doing, it doesn't seem to be working.

Melissandre falls silent and nothing happens. Then she sweeps from the room with her head down. Ed slams the door but Maya stays where she is, nursing herself for having hope, Melissandre for providing it and failing, and Thorne for killing Jon in the first place. She suspects she could perhaps conceivably become angry at Jon for dying, but that is a thought she knows is ridiculous and stamps it down.

Maya drops her head in to her hands and rubs at her face. Her eyes are sore and red but she does not cry again. It seems that every tear she had has left her along with whatever strength had kept her going. She feels exhausted and empty and she buries her head in her hands with her eyes shut tight.

After an indeterminable amount of time she feels Ghost begin to move at her feet. Maya looks up and glances about the room. Davos has stayed with her and Maya is glad that she will not have to sit vigil for Jon alone. She figures that that is all that there is left to do before his body must be burned. Ghost lets out a quiet, almost hesitant bark. There is exactly one complete moment of absolute silence.

Then the world seems to rip in to two, as Jon gasps.

For a long moment Maya can't think. She can't move. She can't do anything. Absolutely nothing feels real because she had hoped before but thought it delusional to hope truly. People do not come back from the dead. But apparently Jon has.

He's dragging in jagged breaths, and sits up very, very, slowly. A few of his muscles twitch and jolt. His chest heaves and Maya can almost see his heart beating, vibrating, jumping inside his body as it kicks back to life.

Following an impulse that comes so suddenly she has no time to think about it Maya jolts forward and wraps her arms around his chest. Her movements come only a half second after Davos moves so she arrives in Jon's arms at around the same time that a blanket ends up wrapped around his shoulders. It is a thin layer between Jon's icy skin and Maya's own clothing and she can feel the cold through the material.

Jon moves slowly, as though it's all a shock but his arms come up around her. Maya thinks it might be more to keep himself from falling over than anything else but she doesn't really care. She slips one palm in to the fold of the blanket and presses it in to his heart. She thinks dimly that this may be the only time that her skin has ever been warmer than his but she focuses on the pounding beat beneath her fingers. Her other palm goes up to cup the back of his neck and the beat is there to.

Melissandre comes in and the shock of the door opening has Maya trying to move to the side but in a moment Jon's arms tighten to the point where her ribs feel a bit crushed. Davos hovered close after he helped Jon to sit up straight and looks like he may be getting ready to intervene but Maya shakes her head to wave him off. If Jon wants her close then she'll stay where she is. No matter how bruised her ribcage ends up.

Maya registers that Melissandre is speaking but only certain details manage to stay in her memory. She remembers the hollow emptiness and absolute pain in Jon's voice when he tells The Red Woman that nothing came after death but nothing itself. She hears the haunting wonderment and chilling speculation in Melissandre's voice when she says "Stannis was not the prince who was promised but someone has to be."

After the woman leaves Davos pulls forward a stool and Jon's grip loosens on Maya enough for her to turn and face the old smuggler as he speaks. "You were dead," Davos says. "Now you're not. That's completely fucking mad, seems to me. I can only imagine how it seems to you." He speaks as though he is doing his best to sound calm but Maya thinks that his voice is not quite steady.

"I did what I thought was right," Jon says. There is so much pain in his voice that it seems to cut deep in to Maya's bones. "And I got murdered for it. Now I'm back," Jon looks across at Davos and then up at her and his eyes seem like bottomless pits. The deep brown of them almost obliterated by his pupils. "Why?" he asks.

Maya can't find the words to speak so she simply shakes her head. "I don't know," Davos says. "Maybe we'll never know. What does it matter? You go on. You fight for as long as you can. You clean up as much of the shit as you can."

Maya can feel Jon's muscles tighten as the grip he still has on her side constricts. "I don't know how to do that," he says bleakly. "I thought I did but... I failed."

"Good," Davos says with conviction. "Go fail again."

Those words awaken a deep memory in Maya, her adoptive father looking down at her after reading over her latest attempt at translating Dornish. She murmurs the words out loud in that language and then repeats it in Common Tongue. "Try again, fail again, fail better," she murmurs. "An old saying, but maybe all that we have."

Jon looks up at her and Maya can see him piecing himself back together. He resurrects himself and gets dressed, and then goes back out in to the cold. Maya watches as Tormund and Ed both great him, managing to drag out small smiles. She can't hear what they say but both the Wildling and the Sworn Brother great him well and truly as friends are meant to.

She watches this happen from the same outdoor railing where she stands when Jon sentences those who conspired to kill him to death. When he speaks to answer claims that his resurrection is not right he response with a tone colder and icier, and more unforgiving than the wall itself. "Neither was killing me."

Maya witnesses one man's plea to tell his mother that he died without having committed his treason. She sees Olly's silence. Thorne's parting words that Jon will be fighting forever ring through her ears as they travel through the dead quiet of the courtyard. Jon cut's out the ropes keeping the ledge beneath their feet and bodies swing, feet twitching and necks broken.

She sees Jon hand Edd his black cloak of the sworn brotherhood. "What should I do with this?" the dolorous man asks.

Jon shrugs. "Keep it. Burn it. I don't care." Maya can hear in his voice that he really and truly doesn't. Whatever else Jon is going to do after all of this, he has stopped caring what happens at a wall on the edge of the world. "You have the wall," Jon continues. This makes her jolt. She recognizes the words as those used when the Lord Commander hands control over to their next in command. Jon begins to walk away from Ed and towards her, his eyes are fixed on hers when he says "My watch has ended."

He doesn't look away until he reaches her. Then he reaches out and takes her hand, cold fingers closing on her forearm and Maya notes that he didn't have gloves on. Jon doesn't once stop his forward march and Maya finds herself being rather definitively dragged out of the cold courtyard and through back in to the Lord Commander's quarters. He doesn't speak once and Maya has no idea how to start a conversation anyway.

Jon freezes suddenly and the stop happens so quick that Maya almost slams in to his back. She can feel her balance starting to slip and twists both of her arms to grab on to the most solid thing that she can. In this case that ends up being Jon's forearm and shoulder. His arms form an automatic cage around her which keeps her upright and he doesn't let go when Maya has her balance back.

"Jon?" she asks quietly. "Jon? Can you talk to me? About anything. Just..." She trails off emptily, not knowing what to do or say next. What could you say to someone who had just come back from the dead and personally delivered justice to his murderers?

"I'm... cold," Jon says finally. "Just, cold. So... cold in-in my bones. I don't know if I'll ever feel warm again."

Maya reaches out and grips Jon by the shoulders and checks over her shoulder. A fire still cracks in the grate, burning low in a mass of black coals and glowing embers. She begins backing up towards the fire, drawing Jon with her, following and floating as though in a dream. She maneuvers so that Jon is closest to the flames and then lets go of his shoulders, moving quickly to fetch more logs from the wood box and lay them in the grate. While she is up Maya opened the door to let Ghost in.

Moving as quickly and efficiently as she possibly can Maya ads in the new firewood and leans down to prod the coals with a poker. She blows lightly to encourage the flames and a moment later they are crackling merrily, casting yellow-orange light and long flickering shadows across the room. Looking, up she finds that Jon hasn't moved, though his eyes have followed her around the room consistently. From what she knows about shock and trauma she chooses to believe that this ability to show focus is a good sign.

A sudden pang of hesitancy hits her in the chest but Maya pushes it down and reaches up, offering Jon her hand. He takes it and Maya does her utmost not to react to the coolness that clings to his skin. It takes very little force to pull Jon down on to the floor beside her and once he's beside her she edges them both as close to the grate as she can stand.

Jon raises the fingers of his free hand to the fire and Maya worries for a moment that he will lower his hands in to the flames and burn his skin away. For an indeterminable moment she feels as though she is holding in a deep breath. She lets it out slowly and feels the weight in her chest release when the rigid line of Jon's shoulders seems to slowly thaw and relax.

"I think," Jon starts and then pauses and turns to meet her eyes. "I think I would like to be warm again."

He seems to be trying to tell her something with his expression so Maya takes her time to sort out what it is before she speaks again. The moment feels precarious, like balancing on the point of a blade, capable of tipping either direction with the slightest push. It's time to tread lightly, like tiptoeing across an icy stream to reach the other side safely.

When she thinks she understands the message she chances speaking. Maya meets Jon's eyes, nods, and speaks. Just six words are all she has and she uses them "We'll go South in the morning."

They seem to be enough, and Jon gives her a tight smile. It's small and looks brittle around the edges, but it's a smile none the less. He shifts slightly, resettling his weight and arranging his cloak like a blanket.

Maya recognizes that he is getting comfortable to sleep and glances about to work out the best way to curl up herself. She finds Ghost laid out behind her, silent as always. The wolf's huge red eyes meet hers and the animal seems to shift closer, adding his warmth to the air. Maya slowly allows her head to rest on the Direwolf's flank and Ghost doesn't move away.

She fixes her eyes on Jon, watching his face as he stares in to the fire. Maya isn't sure that Jon will sleep and wants to try to stay up until she does, but she knows that in all likelihood it won't be possible. Darkness already seems to be creeping in at the edges of her vision and her eyelids are dipping. She only hopes that when she opens them again Jon will still be alive, and his resurrection will not turn out to be just a dream. She fears that when she opens her eyes Jon will still be dead, his body being prepared to burn.

As it turns out Jon is the one to wake her when the early morning sun begins to creep in to the sky and turn the world grey. He does it by calling her name in a low tone and Ghost brushes his large wet nose against her ear and the edge of her hair. Maya accepts the hand Jon offers to help her stand and feels her muscles and joints protest the few hours spent on the floor.

"We can leave in as little as two hours," Jon tells her. "That's uh, if you're sure..."

Maya holds up a hand to cut him off. "I need perhaps an hour to pack my things. Then another to ready the horses. I shall knock on the door when I've packed. Then we'll ride South. Bear Island first, then I think on to find a good ship and across to Dorne. It is after all, as far South as South goes." She eyes his heavy winter clothes for a moment and then conjures a quick smile. "We shall have to find you some proper clothes though." With that she slips from the room and is back to her chamber before she imagines Jon has managed to move.

Picking goes fairly quickly. She never actually had time to unpack anything between her arrival with Davos and Jon's murder. Thinking the word freezes her in place for a moment and she has to give herself a mental shake before she can move again. All in all, emptying her chambers of all of her belongings and having them ready to leave takes quite a bit less time than she thought it would at first.

Not wanting to have nothing else to do, Maya makes her way down in to the courtyard and is just about deciding to go to check on the horses when the call comes that there are people at the gate. She stops where she is and takes a moment to be thankful that the bodies of the traitors were taken down and burned and the gallows cleared away quickly. Maya's not very sure who is going to come through the gate, but friend or foe, having dead bodies suspended in the courtyard is not a good message to send. At best it's a warning, and at worst a threat.

The gate is raised and three figures mounted on horseback come trotting through at a slow, measured pace. One of the figures is a tall girl with a long braid of red hair falling down her back and showing in sharp contrast to her dark travel clothing. She looks around, her blue eyes taking in the scene warily. She's flanked on both sides by the other two riders. To one side is a solemn looking young man a few years older than she is, to the other is a woman with shorn blonde hair, huge watery blue eyes, wide shoulders, and what looks to be golden armor with a sword at her belt.

The red haired girl dismounts first and looks around. Her skin is so pale that the healer in Maya is slightly worried that the cold is leaching the blood straight out of the skin or giving her frostbite. The girl's companions both look like they are ready and waiting to leap to her defense at the slightest provocation and Maya notes that the blonde woman's sword has a lion set in to the pommel.

A door swings open on the level above and Maya looks up to see Jon frozen in place at the doorway above the stairs in to the yard. His eyes are fixed on the red haired girl and a quick look confirms that she is staring back. As she watches Jon straightens and steps quickly down the stairs. As he moves, a realization forms in Maya's mind and she somehow knows _knows,_ that this girls with perfect posture and Tully coloring is Sansa Stark.

Moments later, Jon has Sansa in his arms and lifted off the ground like his half-sister is still no heavier burden than a child. Jon's eyes are shut tight and a look at his face confirms for Maya that he must feel as though a vice on his heart is loosening. Sansa's face looks equally relieved and Maya stays back, letting these shards of family reunite. She's happy for the both of them, but the sight triggers an ache in her chest for her own scattered and decimated family.

Their departure is of course delayed so that Jon and Sansa can speak. Maya sits with Sansa's traveling companions and learns that they are Brienne of Tarth and Podrick Payne. She extracts from them their stories and learns the truth and the extent of the cruelty of Ramsay Bolton as far as the two can tell it. They also represent her largest resource of news in Westeros since being ensconced in Stannis' camp.

This is how she learns what has happened in Dorne.

She should not have to learn that the only family she has had since she was a small child is dead. Her adoptive brother and father are dead, murdered by her uncle's paramour out of some twisted sense of revenge. She's alone. Alone on the wrong side of the world and her entire family is dead.

The news is delivered with the casual seriousness of someone who doesn't realize what it is they've delivered. She stands abruptly, disrupting Podrick's speculations about who will now lead House Martell and what will come next for Dorne. The table they are sitting at jolts but Maya doesn't stop to see if it topples. Her ears are ringing and she can't decide if her insides are being burned or frozen.

She stumbles outside gasping for air and sinks down on the edge of a low table kept there. The air in her throat seems to be thickening and twisting their even as she tries to take it in and calm her racing heart. She's not sure weather she's crying or not but she thinks after so much tragedy and loss she may be out of tears by now. Maya can't hear her own crying and thinks it's possible that she's not drawing enough air to make noise anymore. Intellectually Maya knows that if she can't manage to breath soon she will loose consciousness but there doesn't seem to be anything she can do.

Then there is the sound of footsteps dim and echoing and a face that Maya recognizes is Davos' enters her field of vision and she can see his mouth moving but can't make out the words that he's saying. His hand falls to her shoulder and Maya makes herself focus on his face to read the words as they come out. _-_ _What's wrong?_ he's asking. _Can you breath? Speak?_

Maya shakes her head frantically and fights to form words. "Ellaria," she rasps brokenly. "She's killed all of them. My father, my brother-" That's where her air supply stops but Davos is nodding like it's enough and he's turning and calling to someone but Maya can't focus anymore to make out the words.

The moments pass at a strange speed and Maya tries to count her breaths, timing them out so that they can start to fall back in to some kind of rhythm. Her vision is starting to clear finally and the dark spots receive as the oxygen finally makes it's way in to her blood. Her ears still ring but now she can clearly hear the sounds of Jon approaching demanding that Davos tell him what's happened.

Jon reaches her and sinks to his knees, paying no mind to the dirty snow he now kneels in. His hands move quickly up her arms to her neck and cup her face tipping it sideways and locking eyes with her. There's a frantic look in his brown eyes and his thumbs sweep across the arches of her cheek bones. Maya registers that he is looking for signs of physical injury. "What happened?"

He seems to be asking Davos and not her but Maya has calmed enough to form a full sentence now. "I-I just learned the news from Dorne," she says. Her voice rasps horribly and croaks a bit but that doesn't matter. "My Uncle's Paramore _murdered_ my adoptive father and brother. My only family left..." There she runs out of words again but she doesn't cry anymore. She seems to be out of tears.

Understanding forms in Jon's eyes and in the next moment Maya finds herself pulled forwards in to his arms. They lock around her, solid and finally seemingly warm again and Maya allows herself to bury her head in the space at his collar between his neck and shoulder. They stay that way for an amount of time that could have been minutes or hours and Maya can't really tell.

Eventually, by some unnamed understanding they pull back from each other. Jon reaches forward and brushes a few strands of her hair back from her eyes. His other arm is still loosely half around her waist. His arms are so long and her waist so small that his arm could easily tighten and close from there. "Come inside," he says. "Eat with me and Sansa. Then we'll decide what's next."

Maya notes that she has been collected in to Jon's decision making process along with Sansa. Wherever they go next, she will not be alone. It is this realization that gives her the strength to stand and let Jon lead her back inside to the dinning hall for a meal that should likely be breakfast but may in fact be supper instead. Jon doesn't let go of her hand until they've reached the benches at the dinning table and she's sitting down.

Sansa enters moments later along with Podrick and Brienne who both look at Maya curiously, no doubt wondering about her exit earlier. Tormund and Ed join them as well and they all settle in for their meal together. Maya knows that she should eat and she's exhausted from grief, but that same emotion seems to be twisting her stomach in to knots. Sansa likewise picks at her food, seemingly not convinced by it's claim edibility which leads Ed to apologize for it later. "It's not what we're known for."

Sansa waves off the apology with courtesy that Maya recognizes as indicative of castle living and a Septa's lessons. Tormund devours everything and is regarding Brienne with some interest which the woman ignores, eating as though it's a necessary evil. Jon eats and drinks mechanically, like his muscles remember how the action should be performed but he's not tasting much of anything.

The meal is mostly eaten in silence, disturbed rather unpleasantly by the arrival of Ramsay Bolton's message which Jon takes despite pausing to correct the brother who delivers it by saying that he's not Lord Commander anymore. Jon reads the whole thing out loud with prompting from both Sansa and Maya at different points. Maya supposes reading out Bolton's horrible plans for Sansa herself comes with it's own horrid element but the Stark girl never flinches and Maya notes that she, like the rest of them, has been hardened by experience. She herself prods Jon along when he looks at her with hesitation, maybe not wanting to pass along more bad news. For Maya, nothing Ramsay Bolton can write down on paper will be worse news than that of her family's slaughter.

"Lord of Winterfell, and Warden of the North," Jon repeats when the message concludes, Sansa having taken over the task of voicing the words. Maya reads them over her shoulder as the red haired girl speaks them aloud. Jon's voice is as cold and sharp as the icicles that hang in jagged teeth from the roofs of the buildings around Castle Black.

Sansa takes up a push to get Jon to gather forces and go North with her to take back their home, stating that Ramsay will have killed his father by now. She also says that the hideous excuse of a man will now have their youngest brother Rickon. Maya realizes suddenly that she has already tried before, and this current effort is a renewed one. And Jon is resisting the idea, seemingly by the ends of his fingernails.

"How many men does he have in his army," Tormund asks intently.

Sansa gives her answer of five thousand and Maya senses that Jon has on some level already made up his mind when he turns to Tormund and asks how many men the man has. "That can march and fight? Two thousand. The rest are children and old people."

Maya does the mental math quite quickly and can't hold back a grimace. Even with trained and well disciplined men those odds are bad ones.

Sansa is still speaking, addressing Jon. "You're the sone of the last true Warden of the North," she tells him. "Northern families are loyal they'll fight for you if you ask." Maya knows that Sansa is right but thinks the other girl may be overestimating how far that loyalty will stretch. Jon isn't meeting his sister's eyes and Sansa grabs his arm to force his attention. "A _monster_ has taken our home and our brother! We have to go back and save them both."

Jon looks over at Maya then. "What do you say to all of this? The Mormonts are as Northern as any family near Winterfell is."

Maya stares at him for a moment, surprised that he is asking her for her opinion in this situation. Then Maya lets her eyes flick to Sansa who is gazing at her with a mixture of determination and fear mixed with confusion. Sansa's eyes flick to Jon and then back to Maya. _She's afraid I'll tell him not to._ Maya realizes. _Afraid that he'll listen if I do._ Maya looks back at Jon and she thinks of her father and brother, brutally murdered by a woman they all had trusted. "We must all fight for our homes," she says slowly, letting her own eyes bore in to his. "For our families. Without them we are nothing."

Jon is still for a breath, then nods to her once. He turns to Sansa and nods again and with that the matter is decided. They are going to war.

 **A/N: So what did you guys think? This is part one I think, writing for season 6 ended up taking longer than I thought. I'll have the rest of it up for you very soon! Read and Review! xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxooxoxoxooxxoxoxoxooxxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoox**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** **Nope**

The rest of the day and the one after are completely taken over by planning. Jon eventually concludes that they will have to take Winterfell if they are to defend themselves from their various enemies, living and Whitwalker. However, the pressing problem of fighting living bodies isn't going anywhere overnight.

Davos delivers several hard truths to Sansa which don't seem to sit well with her but Maya privately thinks she probably needs to hear. It is far more pleasant to learn a lesson by listening to it, than to live the consequences. If she has learned nothing else about the world since arriving back in the North, Maya knows she has learned that.

"I may not know the North," Davos says. "But I know men. They're more or less the same in any corner of the world, and even brave men, don't want to see their wives and children skinned for a lost cause. If Jon wants to convince them to fight with them..."

"They need to believe that they will win," Maya concludes. "It makes sense. So, to get men we need to convince them we will win and to do that we need men in the first place. Do I have that right Ser Davos?"

Davos nods. "Quite right My Lady."

Davos seems to be pulling from all of the experience he has gained in his time in military service. He and Jon together have more experience in organized warfare than anyone else in their ragtag command structure, and Davos picked up plenty in his time serving as Stannis' Hand of the King. Jon determines which other families in the North have men they could contribute to their cause excluding the large Houses and those who have already declared for the Boltons. Together they manage to conclude that between all of the small houses they may have the makings of a decent fighting force.

Sansa seems to be regaining her confidence. "The North remembers," she says, quoting an old and common saying. "They remember the Stark name. People will still risk everything for it from White Harbor to Ramsay's own door."

"I don't doubt it," Davos replies. "But Jon doesn't have the Stark name."

Maya sees Jon's eye twitch just slightly at the words and winces in sympathy. She supposes that no matter how long Jon has lived with being a bastard, the sting will never quite fade when the fact is presented. Sometimes wounds are so deep that they never do quite close.

Sansa argues that she herself has the Stark name and Maya chooses not to point out that the girl has been married off twice now. No one else says so either but Maya would guess that the words are on the tips of more than one person's tongue. Luckily for everyone, Sansa continues by confiding that they may be able to ask the Tullys for support as Sansa's uncle has retaken Riverrun.

It's undoubtedly good news but the manner in which Davos continues to make his plans around it troubles Maya greatly. They need some kind of backup and have no refuge from which to retrieve it. If the Blackfish chooses not to or simply cannot back them, their entire offense plan becomes exceedingly perilous.

"There is still my Late adoptive father's letter," Maya says finally.

The realization forms in Jon's eyes even before she is finished speaking. "You mean-"

"According to his will and other properly signed and notarized documents I am his natural daughter," Maya states. "That also places me directly within the line of succession. I didn't ever really think it would matter what with him already having a son and a brother, but now I suppose both those men are dead." Davos and Sansa are both starring at her as though she has announced that winter is over and summer has begun early. Maya takes a deep breath and sits up straight and tall. "By legal right I suppose that I am now Maya Mormont Crown Princess of Dorne and leader of House Martell."

"A house sworn to the Lannisters," Sansa concludes.

Maya shakes her head grimly. "That alliance was held together by the diplomatic positioning of my uncle Oberyn and the marriage of my brother to Myrcella Lannister. Both arraignments which have sense conclusively ended." She looks to Davos. "I cannot promise that the forces of House Martell will come at my call, but it will harm nothing to send a message to try."

Davos nods. "You'll need to be careful, getting around Ellaria Sand."

Maya contemplates for a moment before managing to form a plan. "Many of my Father's bannermen had children I played with when I was small. All of us together used to pass messages to each other in secret. It will help evade Ellaria and prove the messages come from me. After that I can think of at lest three of seven minor houses worth who will back me. They will not be well pleased by the Sand Snakes murder of my family."

The thought is as grim as it is necessary.

They begin their ride for Winterfell the next morning. Sansa gifts Jon with a fur cloak that Jon tells her once they've stopped for the evening is like the one their father used to have. He wears it proudly and Maya knows that the gift from Sansa, Sansa who always treated him as less than family when they were children, means a great deal as a mark of her acceptance. Maya makes sure to compliment Sansa on her sewing and embroidery and Sansa returns the kindness with a small smile. It has been a long time since either girls simply had a friend and forming such a connection seems a tenuous though pleasing prospect.

Their first stop in getting help is the Wildlings. They're reasonably skittish at the prospect of joining the ranks of an army meant for a war between Northern houses, especially considering that they as a group have always kept themselves out of Westerosi affairs. Jon spells out for them exactly what will happen if they fail to take Winterfell. It's a gruesome picture and Jon does nothing to soften or clean the edges, though he honesty admits that it's not the Wildling's fight, and he likely shouldn't ask or their help. His piece is simple though honest and he speaks it well.

Tormund steps in and reveals that Jon has already given his life once for the Free Folk. "He died for us," he says. "If we're not willing to do the same for him, we're cowards," he speaks the last words like they are the worst insult he can think of and Maya thinks they might be. "If that's what we are," he concludes. "We deserve to be the last of the Free Folk."

Eventually the matter is decided by Mags the Giant grunting out a rough "Snow!" Maya isn't quite sure how much confidence she has in that as a decision making process, but regardless having a giant on their side can only be a good thing. The fact that the rest of the Wildling army commits to their cause after the giant does is even better. The deal is sealed with a handshake and Maya hopes desperately that the action means more here than it does sometimes in Dorne.

Their next stop is Bear Island which is all things considered not the homecoming that Maya had pictured in her head. She sends a raven in advance explaining the purpose of their visit and makes a seal out of wax from a green candle stub. She forms the image using the carved bear pendant she still wears around her neck even this many years after her father first gave it to her.

When Maya reenters her family home for the first time since she was a child she comes with Jon and Sansa to either side of her with Davos hanging back behind them very slightly. They decided before going that Maya would make the introductions and then Sansa and Jon would speak. They follow this plan... and it seems to fail rather badly. They are truly saved when Davos begins to speak and with a flash Maya remembers how well he had always treated the Princess Shireen.

With a jolt she realizes that, while in age she, Sansa, and Jon may be closer to Lyanna, they are not close enough to being children. The three of them have been forced to grow up too quickly. They were forced to become adults in the blink of an eye and now they don't know how to speak to children.

Lyanna still doesn't seem completely convinced of their cause when Davos is done speaking so Maya swallows hard and steps forward. "I know you won't remember me Lyanna," she tells her cousin softly. "My family left for the South just after you were born, so I will understand if you do not consider us family. I do not know you and you do not know me. But the blood in our veins is in part the same."

The eleven year old girl's face doesn't soften. "And you would have me commit the men of House Mormont to these people on your behalf?"

"No," Maya says, shaking her head. "But I would have you know, that no matter what you decide to do on the matter of our cause, we are, neither of us, the last Mormonts left. Army or not, I am here. Between us, we may have some scrap of family. That is, if you want it."

She's not sure what effect her words may have had, but at least now she has spoken. Maya meant each word she spoke and after an indeterminable moment Lyanna's face softens slightly. "Then perhaps cousin, we do have scraps." Then she turns back to Jon, Sansa, and Davos, and a few moments later they have secured the promise of sixty-two Mormont soldiers. It's not as many as she knew Sansa and Jon wanted, but knowing the population of Bear Island it's about what Maya expected.

They ride further towards Winterfell and establish themselves in the same camp ground that Stannis had used. Davos explains why militarily when Sansa questions it and Jon confirms Maya's belief that regardless of the tactical advantage of the location, they won't be staying long. The two men debate the perils of another snow storm coming and blocking them in and Jon says, "We need to march for Winterfell now while we still can."

"I assume we will be staying the night at least?" Maya asks. The others look at her and the furrow in Jon's brow tells her he's like to question why she's asking but isn't sure. "This may be the last time we camp very much at all," Maya explains. "It may be the only opportunity to treat injuries for some time."

Sansa looks confused that she is concerned over such a thing and it dawns on Maya that the other girl has never learned that she is fully trained as a healer. Jon on the other hand nods and looks around, using his added height to scan the tops of the tents. "That tent is empty," he tells her, pointing to the one he means. "Take any healer you can find and spread the word that it's to be the medical tent. We'll start sending the injured your way."

Maya nods and begins to dismount. Jon is there offering a hand before she has gotten more than half way off her horse. Maya takes it after only a slight hesitation and steps down to the ground as courtesy lessons demand. Once she's on the ground Jon unstraps her supplies from her saddle and hands them to her. He manages a small smile and slight nod. Maya smiles in return and then moves along to the allowed medical tent, clicking her tongue gently so that her horse follows her.

The inside of the tent is clean enough and Maya sets it up for medical use as best she can. Then she spends the next hour going around to different groups of Wildlings and speaking to each Maester she can. This includes the Maester of House Mormont who is the same man Maya is passingly sure oversaw her when she was a child herself. The old man confirms it with a smile and a friendly greeting and hears out her plans for a medical tent. The man agrees to come with her and Lyanna comes along, Maya suspects more for something to do than anything else.

In the end perhaps a dozen healers meet together in the medical tent and patients begin arriving almost as soon as all of their supplies have been set out. The rest of Maya's day dissolves in to the steady rhythm of cleaning cuts and putting on bandages and mixing poultices that never fails to focus and calm her mind. By the time the sun has set and it's time for Maya to get some sleep, her fingers are pricked raw and her hands need a good wash but her mind is blissfully numb.

She jolts back to the world when the tent flap opens and Jon's head of black curls announces his arrival in the tent. Jon spots her and walks up to her, "I see you've been busy," he says.

"Yes," Maya nods. "I'm glad though," she continues. "If the men come in for treatment now it means they will be that much more prepared to fight properly when the time comes."

Jon nods, looking somehow hopeful and tired at the same time. "Have you eaten anything?" he asks suddenly. Maya is slightly taken aback by the question for a long moment and works quickly to smooth it from her face as she shakes her head. "Not yet since we arrived."

"You ought to," Jon says, his voice sounds a bit gruff and he shifts his weight from foot to foot before offering his hand. "Come on."

Maya looks once around the tent but it seems all of the patients have been seen to for now. "Alright." She takes Jon's proffered arm and allows him to lead her out of the tent and across the camp to a different, larger tent with what Maya knows to be a military planning table in it's center. Two bowls of soup and a loaf of rough bread along with two flagons of water wait for them on a bench.

They sit together and eat. Maya reports on her patients and which she believes have already made full recoveries. Jon tells her succinctly of what's been going on around camp and seems to be trying to talk rationally about his argument with Sansa but it ends up being more about Jon venting his frustrations. By the time he's done speaking Maya is forced to shut her eyes tight for a moment and pinch between her eyes to fight back the nauseousness his constant pacing has caused.

Maya hasn't actually managed to help much in terms of working through the problems Jon has presented but she prompts him through to the end and when he finally expels a deep breath and sits back down beside her Maya thinks she may have helped after all. "Better?" Maya asks after the silence has had a moment to settle around them again. A small smile has managed to crawl across her face and she's doing her best to choke it back.

"Much," Jon replies emphatically. He seems to note her smile and his own grin creeps across his face like he can't help it. "Much much better." His voice takes on the notes of an almost laugh and Maya begins to feel her own giggles rising in her chest. "How is it possible that, _that_ helped?"

"We'll never know," Maya answers with a laugh.

They manage to hold on to the lighter mood for approximately two and a half minutes. Then their smiles melt away and Maya wishes desperately that she could coax the lightness back in to the air again and let their smiles push the shadows back again. But that won't be possible. Because they are fighting a war and tomorrow, or some other too soon day Jon will have to lead the charge and he might not live through it.

Jon sets down his tankard and sits back to look at her. "We ride out for Winterfell tomorrow," he says. "We'll have to meet with him before battle begins. It's customary, give both parties a chance to come to terms before life has to be lost."

"The rules of war," Maya murmurs. "It seems rather a waster when both sides just decide to kill each other anyway."

He shrugs. 'It's just what's always been done I suppose. I'll do my best to talk Bolton out of a fight. If he doesn't believe that he can win he might decide it's not worth the embarrassment of trying."

Maya herself sits up straighter as she processes what Jon means. "You do not believe that we can beat him, do you?" It's a suspicion she's held for a while but Jon has been putting on a good face in front of all of the troops and everyone that they've tried to recruit and sometimes Maya can make herself forget that they have barely over half as many men as the Boltons do. The men that Maya had tried to recruit from Dorne haven't had enough time to put together a fighting force and sail yet though she had secured the pledge of more than a few of her father's former bannermen by way of a raven.

"We will try," Jon says. "We have planning on our side and our forces know the terrain better. Those things count for something," he takes another drink of water. "There's no telling what will happen when the battle actually begins."

It's not a solid answer one way or the other and Maya isn't exactly reassured by it, but she knows it's the best Jon can do at the moment so she nods. "I ought to be going to bed," she says. "If we are to face Bolton for ill fated negotiations soon I believe I'll need to be well rested for them." She stands and then realizes that she has no idea which tent she's meant to be sleeping in. "Where exactly..."

"Sansa's agreed to share a tent with you," Jon says, understanding her half-formed question. "I'll walk you to it."

It's not a long walk and Jon leaves her outside a tent that looks almost exactly like every other one in camp. He manages a small smile and bids her good night which Maya returns and slips inside. When she goes in Sansa herself is blowing out a candle. The girl has clearly tried to make the tent as comfortable as can be managed with so little to work with and Maya appreciates it.

She washes her hands quickly in the hand basin and changes quickly in to a sleep shift before collapsing on to the bed roll provided. Maya manages to wish Sansa goodnight and hears her reply before she drops off the ledge in to sleep.

Both Maya and Sansa rise early the next morning with little prompting and within moments Maya can tell that Sansa's fingers have been thoroughly numbed by the cold as the other girl fumbles with the laces of her dress. "Here," Maya offers, standing and crossing over to offer her help. She reaches out and threads the laces on auto pilot. At this point she's used to working without being able to feel her fingers well so the process goes basically smoothly. "Is that tight enough?" she asks.

Sansa nods and steps away. "Yours now," she states, gesturing for Maya to turn.

Maya does as indicated and holds her dress up around her as Sansa does up her own laces in a tight line up her spine. It's the first time anyone has given Maya such help in quite a while and it's a welcome change. Ultimately it proves very lucky that the girls are there to help each other because the wind buffeting the sides of the tents is bitterly cold and getting dressed requires layers upon layers of clothing that must be donned as quickly as possible. They break the ice in the basin and take turns with it and then go outside with their things in preparation for breaking camp.

The next two days fall in to a similar rhythm and Maya can almost forget that a battle is coming. She knows everything around her is being prepared for war, but with a battle yet to be fought that truth can be blocked out by the everyday tasks she must complete. The routine is completely dissolved when it comes time to ride out to meet Ramsay before battle begins. Jon asks her to go with them when they go and Maya agrees. She doesn't know what purpose her presence will serve, but she also knows she would have insisted on going if Jon had tried to leave her behind.

Their talks, as Maya expected, do not go particularly well. Jon plays his position as best he can and almost succeeds in baiting Ramsay in to a single combat trial to decide everything without an actual war but Ramsay proves too clever for that. Stating that according to what he's heard from the Northerners, he would never beat Jon in single combat but his army will certainly defeat theirs. Ramsay also proves that he has Jon and Sansa's brother by producing the severed head of Rickon's direwolf.

Maya thinks that this is possibly Bolton's largest blunder so far. Sansa promises the vile man a death the next day and rides off at a brisk pace. Jon stays where he is but Maya can see the rage slowly defusing through his entire body.

Ramsay threatens them all with his dogs and as his frog-like eyes drift across their assembled group. Maya forces herself not to shudder when he seems to fix on her. His mouth curves in to a horrible, leering, smile and Maya feels as though every inch of her skin is crawling. Jon's horse takes two tiny steps to the left partially blocking her and Ramsay's smile goes hideously wider.

"Until tomorrow then," Ramsay says lightly. "Bastard," he tacks the last word on like he means it to be salt rubbing against an open cut.

It seems to be a very, very, very long night.

Maya busies herself with collecting the cleanest scraps of fabric she can find and tears them in to long strips, stitching the edges to make them in to bandages. It's all she can do to prepare for tomorrow. She anticipates plenty of spilled blood the next day. Making bandages also helps her to avoid the command tent which she's committed to doing since she hears the strains of quite an argument coming from it when she passes by. She has no energy to place herself in the middle of a Stark sibling argument.

Making the bandages is a process that Maya very much enjoys as it occupies her mind and hands equally. It also makes her feels useful, which is something that has been difficult for her to feel much in the time since their military campaign has begun. Maya doesn't know how to plan a battle or fight a war. She isn't even particularly good with a sword, but Maya has a set of skills demanded everywhere in the world. No matter what else happens, Maya has a definitive pool of valuable knowledge.

She stitches quietly for several hours, listening to the sounds of soldiers walking back and forth past the tent as each of them prepares for the day and battle ahead. She works until her eyelids finally begin to feel heavy and has produced a large pile of bandages by then. Sansa doesn't return to the tent before Maya falls asleep, nor is she there when Maya rises in the morning. Her bed isn't slept in either and Maya briefly wonders about that before apprehension over what the day will bring obliterates all other concerns from her mind.

Maya packs her bag of supplies quickly after she dresses and then exits the tent, letting the flap swing shut behind her. She wonders if she will ever come back to this tent but thinks it's probably unlikely unless the battle for Winterfell carries on for more than one day. Her single trunk of possessions from Dorne has been stored with the rest of the more permanent supplies in a single wagon designated for the purpose which would stay far from the battle.

The morning is grey and the camp fairly quiet as Maya begins to make her way to the medical tent from which the healers will all depart together for a secondary tent prepared closer to the front lines. She is half way to her destination when a small willing boy of perhaps the age of five with a thick head of extremely tangled dark hair darts directly in to her path. "King Crow's looking for you," he pipes out importantly.

Fighting down her instinct to reach out and smooth some of the tangles from the child's hair Maya stops for a moment before realizing that he means Jon. She nods and holds out her hand. "Will you show me where he is?"

The child nods importantly. "'Course. Tormund told us we're all meant to do what you and King Crow say being as Jon Snow's in charge and your 'is spearwife."

The little boy takes off and begins to dart through the camp leaving Maya feeling shell shocked behind him. Numbly, she begins to follow the boy, her mind racing all the while. Why would this wildling child possibly think she was Jon's wife in any sense? Why would Tormund tell him so? Had he even? Or, had the boy simply assumed..."

The child skids to a stop just outside of what Maya recognizes as Jon's tent and begins to shift from foot to foot impatiently as though she is taking a dreadfully long time to catch up with him, when in actual fact she joins him only moments later. As soon as she draws level with the child he gives her a crooked smile and dashes off again without a word. Maya stares after him, shaking her head and then turns to knock on the tent pole outside the main flap. She enters at Jon's word.

What she sees is enough to send hot blood up the back of her neck and in to her cheeks and almost causes her to turn around and walk straight back out again. Jon is standing in the middle of his tent, holding his shirt up with one hand, holding a small, sharp knife in the other, attempting to find an angle from which he could snip through the stitches that run in black lines crisscrossing the muscles and planes of the pale skin of his stomach and chest. The skin is smooth and largely unmarked apart from the ribbons of stitching and Maya looks around the tent, trying to focus on almost anything else, the willing child's words still ringing through her head.

She swallows hard against the dryness in her throat and finally manages to form words. "I was told you were looking for me."

Jon looks up as though only just realizing that she really is in the tent. "Aye," he says. Maya wonders if she's imaging the way Jon's throat moves as he swallows, and the pink tinge that creeps over the rims of his ears. "I was wonderin' if you couldn't take the stitches out? If they tear while I'm fighting they'll like as not do more harm than good."

Maya manages a nod, which all things considered she is rather proud of and takes a step forward, reaching for the knife in Jon's hand. He presses the worn wooden hilt of the blade in to her palm, his fingers curling around hers for a moment as she takes her own grip. Jon holds his shirt out of the way at her indication and after only one more tiny moment of hesitation Maya reaches out to begin her work.

She places her right hand, the one holding the knife, to begin snipping through the stitches. Her left hand she braces against Jon's stomach to hold herself and Jon's skin to the right ankle. Jon jolts slightly as her fingers make contact, chilled against his warmed skin. "Cold hands," he mutters.

Maya looks up at him briefly as she begins to slide the thinnest sharp tip of the knife beneath the thread of the first set of stitches. "At least you're warm again," she tells him. "Now hold still."

Jon does as he's told as Maya continues to snip through the lines of stitches she had so carefully put in place weeks earlier. Soon she's ready to begin removing the threads altogether. She lowers the knife to the ground and brushes both of her palms against her sides, pushing her hair back from her face before she begins.

She looks up once more to tell Jon that's she's about to actually begin to remove the stitches. However, the words become lost on the way from her mind to her lips as she finds Jon already looking down at her. She bights her lower lip, looking back down at the ground. Maya decides to address the ground instead of trying to speak while meeting the darkness in Jon's deep brown eyes.

With delicate fingers Maya grips the first thread between her nails and prepares to pull. "This might hurt a bit," she warns, flicking her eyes back up to his face. She begins to pull and her hand jerks slightly when Jon speaks.

"It's fine," he says lowly. "You pulling them out can't hurt worse than why you had to put them in." Maya doesn't know what to say to that.

Jon nods for her to continue and Maya continues the process of removing the threads from his skin. Finally all of the thread is gone and in it's place are lines of shining pink scar tissue. She's pleased to see that the lines are fully sealed and uninterrupted by any bleeding gaps. She presses her fingers to the scars and is satisfied by the fact that the skin they occupy is no warmer than the skin around them, meaning that they have closed with no infection.

She gestures for Jon to turn and repeats the process on the lines of stitching on his back. There are fewer scars here and Maya is glad for it. For one thing, it means that when Jon was stabbed, not every knife strike went all the way through his body. For another, it means that Maya spends a bit less time trying not to focus on how the skin on Jon's back and the ridges and bumps of his swing feel beneath her palm as she works.

"Done," Maya says finally, taking a step back.

Jon turns and pulls his shirt back in to place. With deft movements he pulls on the stiff leather pieces of his armor and buckles Longclaw in to place at his waste. He seems to take in and let go of a deep breath before he focuses back on her. He smiles, but not as though he thinks anything is funny. This smile is more like he can't quite decide what other shape his mouth is supposed to make at that moment. It's a smile that says he doesn't know what else to do. "Any advice?" he asks.

Maya takes in her own deep breath and suddenly remembers a moment very like this one when Jon was getting ready to leave for his mission to destroy Craster's cabin in the woods. She says again what she had said then. "Don't die," she tells him.

"Anything else?" he asks.

Maya notes that Jon seems to be stepping closer and tries to think of something else to say. "I suppose," she begins. Jon is still moving closer and Maya isn't completely sure what words exactly are coming out of her mouth. "Just make sure you come home again... And-"

That's where her words stop. She really, truly, can't keep going. Because suddenly one of Jon's hands is cupping her cheek. The tips are pushing in to the edges of her hair and his thumb is brushing over the ridge of her cheekbone. Then his lips are brushing over hers in the softest ever kiss. Maya's eyelids slip shut and feels her entire body seem to melt in to Jon's chest as his lips move with hers.

She doesn't now how long the kiss lasts. It could go for hours or seconds, but she doesn't care either way. Her mind feels empty, her body wonderfully light and yet also grounded. She feels safe. Right there and right then in Jon's arms it feels as though nothing bad can happen, and she never wants the moment to end. However, eventually it must because they both have to breath and Jon pulls back.

He doesn't go far though, his fingertips sketch gently across her face as though he's trying to memorize it's structure through touch. Maya's palms are pressed between her body and the hard edges of his armor and she allows them to flutter back and forth along the lines of his shoulders before they still. Jon lets his forehead drop against hers and they just stay like that for a long moment, eyes shut, simply occupying the same space.

Maya opens her eyes to find Jon's already fixed on her face. They are warm and soft in a way Jon almost never sees and Maya notes that there are flecks of gold in them near near his pupils. "I'd like to do that again," he says softly. His voice in that moment is warm and low and soft, like velvet trailing over her skin. "Sometime. If..." he trails off.

With a deep breath Maya takes a tiny step back. "Come back alive," she says, still looking in to his eyes. "Then we'll see."

After that they both have to leave. Jon must command his men in battle and Maya must prepare to treat the ones who come back injured. He will try to ensure that as many men as possible come back alive and Maya will try to make sure that everyone who comes back damaged can be made whole again. She isn't sure which gods she prays to anymore, but she is willing to pray to all of them so long as Jon is among the number that survive. They part ways when each of them is half way from where they need to be.

Maya goes to the medical tent and waits, each and every one of her nerves stretched taught as they wait for their first casualties to arrive. Once the fighting begins, they don't have to wait long. The injured begin like a stream that has just defrosted and the stream doesn't seem to have any end in sight. She works tirelessly and her hands are soon covered in blood and grime. She pricks her fingers again and again on the needle she uses to stitch wounds closed. She relocates joints, sets bones, administers medicines, and even helps to amputate a few unfortunate limbs.

There is no more time for thinking. All that can be done is act. Maya simply follows her instincts and hopes that they will be enough to see her patients through.

Things shift when it becomes clear that if they are actually going to treat the worst of the injuries, a group of the healers will need to be closer to the front lines. Maya volunteers to go without thinking about it. There's still no time for thinking. Someone needs to go, so she does, carrying all of the supplies she possibly can.

The sight that greets Maya when she reaches the front explains a greet deal. It explains both the abundance of injuries being treated, and all of the bodies that they are too late to save. Jon's forces are completely surrounded by a dense ring of the enemy. Their army is an island in the center of a mass of all those whom wish to crush it. And being crushed looks like it is only moments away.

Then a miracle happens. A surge of mounted forces storms the battlefield, breaking through the Bolton troops and scattering them. Just like that the tide of the battle shifts, and suddenly it is the Bolton army being crushed while the Northern forces swell up and crash over them like a wave. Maya scans the horizon and catches sight of three mounted figures hanging well back from the battle. One holds a banner bearing the sigil of the Vale, another appears to be an older man with greying dark hair, and the third is a girl with long red hair. Sansa has brought the Knights of the Vale to their aid.

Maya can't help the smile that curves across her mouth at that moment, no matter the carnage that surrounds her. Anything is still possible in a battle, but for now the Boltons have been taken by surprise and it seems as though they have a chance at winning. Then she spots Jon, Tormund, and Mags the Giant sprinting from the field of battle, following after Ramsay as he retreats for the fortifications of Winterfell with a small selection of his forces.

Before the thought has completely formed in her head Maya is grabbing the reins of an abandoned horse and swinging herself in to the saddle to follow. She doesn't know what will happen, but she knows that she needs to see it herself. Both Ramsay and Jon's forces have a good head start on her but the horse Maya has taken is a battle charger and she rides at full gallop. Even so, by the time she arrives the battle seems to be on the verge of ending.

She enters the courtyard at a sprint, having been forced to abandon the horse at the gate because of all of the wreckage in the way. Jon is advancing on Ramsay, his face and armor smeared with blood and dirt in equal measure. He's steps from Ramsay who is desperately attempting to reload the crossbow he holds. Several arrows are already buried in the shield Jon carries but Jon doesn't seem to be stopping.

Ramsay tries to knock another arrow but Jon is on top of him, and swinging his shield in to Bolton's face. Ramsay hits the ground and Jon slams down on top of him. He begins to pummel Ramsay's face. Slamming down his fists one after the other in constant, unending rhythm. It looks like Jon is kneading Ramsay's face the way that a baker kneads bread dough.

Maya has never seen Jon look like this before. She has seen Jon angry and furious before. She has even seen him in battle and in the middle of a fight. But this is a complete and utterly different level of remorseless fury.

And Maya is frozen in place. She calls Jon's name and wonders wildly if she should try to pull Jon away, though in Jon's present state she's frightened to try. Maya has never been frightened of Jon before. She is now. Not of Jon exactly, but at this moment she is frightened of his actions.

Sansa appears in the courtyard beside her and stares at Jon as well. She adds her voice to Maya's calls and together the two of them seem to somehow break through whatever haze Jon is in. Jon's fists slow to a stop and he turns his head, his eyes traveling from Maya to Sansa. The look in his eyes is wild, the brown swallowed almost completely by the pupil. Then without a word, he stops, gets up, and walks away.

Sansa orders Ramsay to be chained and placed in the dungeons. The Bolton banner is stripped from the outer wall and the stark banner of a grey direwolf on a white field takes it's place. Maya doesn't see this though. She's trying to find Jon.

When she manages this, Jon is using snow to try to scrub the blood from his hands. He doesn't seem to notice Maya's approach though she does her best to make noise as she walks. "Jon?" she calls.

His scrubbing motions stop which is a relief to Maya who worries that the ice in the snow may have already stripped several layers of skin from his hands. His head drops and he doesn't meet her eyes as he mutters, "I'm alright."

"No," Maya replies. "You're not." She crosses over to him and offers her hand. Hesitantly, Jon takes it and she pulls him up and leads him back towards through the gates of Winterfell. "Where's the kitchen?" she asks. The line between Jon's eyes deepens but he directs her without asking her to explain herself. He points them down the right hallways using his right hand, though his left doesn't leave hers.

When they reach the kitchens the room is empty and the fires are nothing more than smoldering ash. Maya suspects that the kitchen staff left in a hurry when Ramsay left for the battle. Maya knows she would have if she were employed by such a man. It doesn't matter though. All Maya really needs is a pale of decently warm water and somewhere to sit for a moment.

Jon sits at the table where the kitchen workers take their meals and Maya locates the well cover that this room uses to draw water to cook with. She draws a pale and is impressed with how easy the task is. Whoever designed the castle clearly thought carefully about it's construction.

Next she finds a clean towel and brings both objects over to where Jon sits. She dips the towel in to the water and rings it out, before examining the contents with a frown. "This water is almost... warm," she says.

"Winterfell was built over natural hot springs," Jon tells her. The water from them pumps through the wells and up in to the walls. It's part of what keeps the rest of the castle so warm. The heat travels through the stones."

Maya smiles and begins to dab at Jon's knuckles, wiping away lines of grime and blood alike. "You'll have to show me later," she tells him quietly. "The castle, the town and grounds. I'd like to see them." She continues her work and squints at the grazes in his skin before determining that they should be left open to the air to heal. "No today of course," she tells him. "But in a few days when we've the time, I'd like to see where I'll be living for a while."

"Will you?" Jon asks. Maya cocks an eyebrow at him, silently asking for him to clarify. "Will you be living here? After everything you've seen here, everything that you've seen.."

Maya understands what he's asking. _Will she stay after everything that she has seen Jon himself do, will she stay?_ "Not forever," Maya admits to him. "Someday fairly soon when it can be done I'll have to go to Dorne and marshal House Martell. It is filled with fine warriors, strong and clever men who I believe will help in the wars to come. But until that day comes, yes I'll stay here and learn of Winterfell. I believe I could grow to love it here."

Jon turns his hand where she holds it so that his fingers are holding hers. He pulls her slightly and Maya finds herself standing against his knees which are still encased in armor. "This doesn't mean we'll win," he warns. "We've won this battle but there's still a war yet to come. We've already lost so much, Rickon... Rickon was murdered today. There'll be more losses to come."

"I know Jon," Maya tells him. "Loss has always been a part of our lives, yet I don't believe we'll ever get used to it. Each loss will hurt and we will grieve each one in our time. I never met Rickon but if you are willing, I will mourn him with you. We will live and mourn our dead and continue to fight until we are among them. I plan to fight beside you in any way I can."

Jon kisses her then, and it is every bit as ensnaring and perfect as their first. Maya falls in to the moment and lets it surround her. She wants to remember every bit of the experience that is kissing Jon Snow. After a moment though, Jon's mouth is opening against hers and their lips and tongues begin to move together and Maya can't possibly think, much less concentrate.

Eventually their kisses slow and they pull apart when they both have to breath. "I survived," Jon manages to say, apparently regaining his breath more quickly than she does. "And I wanted to kiss you."

"I'm glad you did," Maya tells him honestly, her eyes blinking slowly as she comes back to the world. "I'd like you to again soon, but not now, because now I believe you ought to make yourself ready to speak to your lords. Sansa is gathering them and they'll be waiting for you soon."

Maya is quite right about that and after parting ways for a few hours so that Jon, Maya, Sansa, Baelish and several other lords can make themselves presentable. Then they congregate together in the Great Hall of Winterfell. When they arrive Jon hands Sansa down in to the seat at his left and then gestures for Maya to come forward from the place she had claimed for herself at the wall.

"You're Crown Princess of Dorne," he says to her. "You'll sit at the high table while you stay here at Winterfell." he hands her down in to the seat at his right and then sits down himself.

Lord Baelish lurks against the wall watching the proceeding unfold. Davos sits behind the high table and frowns at the entire assembly of lords. Maya manages to catch her cousin Lady Lyanna Mormont's eye and gives the eleven year old girl a small wave and a smile. Lyanna returns the gestures and Maya sees that the battle has given her cousin an expression of almost ferocious pride.

This pride is given voice when Lyanna tells off the entire group of assembled lords for not supporting Jon in this battle. Her speech concludes when she pronounces "House Mormont remembers! The North remembers! We know no king, but the king in the North, whose name is Stark. I don't care if he's a bastard. Ned Stark's blood runs in his veins. He's my King. From this day, until his last days" The words echo in the hall and it's the turning point and in the next moments something truly incredible is taking place.

"Lady Mormont speaks harshly," a new lord speaks, standing from his spot. "And truly. My son died for Robb Stark, the Young Wolf. I didn't think we'd find another king in my lifetime. I didn't commit my men to your cause, because I didn't want mor Manderlys dying for nothing. But I was wrong." Lord Manderly turns to face the other lords. "Jon Snow avenged the Red Wedding!" he proclaims. "He is the White Wolf. The King in the North!" With that he unsheathes his sword and kneels, driving the blade in to the ground.

Another man stands to take Lord Manderly's place. He speaks to Jon saying, "I did not fight beside you on the field. And I will regret that until my dying day. A man can only admit when he is wrong, and ask forgiveness."

This has the potential to be a tricky moment but Jon handles it smoothly. "There's nothing to forgive My Lord," he says, no beat missed.

"There will be many fights ahead in the wars to come," the man announces. "And House Glover, will stand behind House Stark as we have for a thousand years! And I will stand behind Jon Snow. The King in the North!" He imitates Lord Manderly's actions with his own sword.

In moments the call echoes around the hall. Every Lord in the hall chanting for the King in the North, proclaiming their allegiance to him. They are the North, and the North has chosen Jon to be their King. Maya sees that Davos has joined in the cheering, Lyanna adding her voice as well, her smile satisfied and eyes bright. Only Lord Baelish appears less than thrilled, watching events unfold.

Jon stands, looking from Maya to Sansa as though he's half hoping one of them will tell him what he ought to say now.

Maya smiles back at him, though she has no advice to offer. In all of her half-formed musings about what could come after their battle, she never expected this, and she doesn't know what will happen next. All that she knows for certain is that she has chosen the side that she will fight on in the wars to come, and she knows that she will fight beside Jon, for his home here in the North and her own home in Dorne.

They will not be perfect nor will this war. It will be long and hard and likely devastating and they may loose. They will have to make terrible choices and will sometimes make the wrong ones. But she knows that they will do all that they can to fight.

They will try to be good.

 **A/N: So what did you guys think? I'm not completely married to this ending and am open to changes and suggestions if you have them. I'll probably keep writing this when the rest of GoT actually comes out which is taking an absolute _eternity._ Anyway, I really appreciate you guys all reading. Review for me! xoxoxxoxoooxoxoxoxoxoxxoxooxoxoxoxoxoxooxoxoxooxoxoxoxooxoxoxoxoxoxooxoxoxoxoxxoxoxoxooxxoxoxoxooxoxoxoxoxoxoxxoxoxoxooxoxoxoxoxoxox**


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